Shape. Whatever that means. Forms. You can study the symmetry of symbols we use in written language, words. Formless, shadows, we count them, bend our fingers around, call them dragons, call them dreams. Non-euclidean. Shapes that can't exist. Memories, shapes our minds have been forced to hold. Thoughts, shapes our minds create to deal with hope and fear, which... which perhaps I have a difficult time distinguishing between. Angular, curvature, some caricature of what I thought I'd be at 24. 24. Two shapes, angular and curvaceous.
The only thing that felt worse than being left alone was being left alone at nighttime.
It was 2004 and Keri was 18; visiting Zak's downtown apartment after he finally kept a promise and picked her up to see him.
On his mattress on the floor - crumpled blankets, the two of them in t-shirts and underwear.
He got high, they watched MTV until 4am; in between he ate Cheetos and asked Keri to marry him. He always, always, talked about how beautiful their children would be. How could Keri say yes when she was 18? How could she say...
"I really do hate these balloons," she said as she lay on the ground, trying to decide whether she should use the pink and purple as a theme for her rooftop party later that evening. She hadn't even wanted to throw a party in the first place. Her friends came up with the idea, and like always, Kiersten was pressured into organizing it all. She got up and walked around the roof, carefully checking the tables she had set up earlier. She had a knack for organizing and making things look nice. And although she was great at it, she...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
An American girl, a lost girl. Separated from everything she had ever known in the world. Just 18, but young enough to be scared to death. Her bright blue eyes and mahogany hair were a dead giveaway that this girl didn't belong. Her eyes met mine and I motioned to her with my left hand. She was shocked, like a deer in headlights; I could tell she was thinking, "why me." The look on her face was one that was asking for help - when she...
What would happen if I just left in the middle of the night?
He wouldn't remember you when he got older.
A price would need to be paid, but I don't know about him completely forgetting.
Personally, I think you should go.
He loped into the night, thinking and rubbing his too soft hands face, never quite sure if he had been slapped in the face.
Ricky did not realize that Luca Brazzi was a man's name, and so, all confused, he had dumped someone completely different, the wife of an architect named Lucia Brazziana (the wife not the architect), in the Hudson river, and had then sent a coded message to the Corlione family. As for Luca Brazzi, he did not sleep with the fishes; he simply overslept. So one can imagine Titaglia's confusion when he showed up, unannounced, with an icepick in hand, and stabbed it through Titaglia's eyeball.
This was in the era before horse heads and cardinals. When a vague optimism was...
I stared up at the stars the beauty overtaking my sight, the bright lights occupied me while I was waiting. For him
I heard the scrape of metal coming from the silver ladder, someone was climbing up. He reached the top the lamp he was holding lighted his face helping me see his cute face.
He said nothing and sat next to me placing the lamp in front of us, following my eyes up to the stars.
This was forbidden, us together in the midnight hour. Us together. If our families found out were would be surely banished. We were...
She stood waiting by the binoculars. How sappily romantic was that? She shook her head at her own ridiculousness.
To distract herself, she gazed out across the city. The beautiful city she called home.
From here, everything was so clear and straight. The roads looked easy to navigate, like one could never get lost.
She had moved to this city four years ago. Following a dream, a memory. Some how she had stumbled upon him. And he was, real.
He was also no where to be seen.
She looked down at her wrist for the watch she didn't wear anymore,...
He was pacing back and forth. His dress pants making a slight swifting noise with every step.
"They should have been here by now," Tom said breathing heavily.
"They will get here when they get here," I replied as I tried to relax on his couch.
We were in his office and we had an important meeting.
It was with a new set of clients who had a nasty reputation. We were suppose to change that for them, however, they were late for the first meeting. A bad sign.
First impressions are everything here. Tom and I rarely discuss anything...