Once, in Beijing, you were there. You were here. Doorway. Phone. Stammer.
She clutched round her that red gown, shawl over shoulders, and stood. Stands?
I am across the street, with you. Table. Café. On the table: phone, keys, change. Two glasses.
One and a half minutes ago, I hit "record" on the phone and slid the phone toward you. Between you and me.
You cleared your throat, and said:
Once, in Beijing, you were there. A young girl, a gown too big. You saw a couple across the street. One older, thin, thin-lipped, a look of resignation. One younger,...
He remembered back to a time long ago, when the sun was shining and the birds were singing and the grass was green and life was a magical thing.
It was pleasent here, in his memories...but they never lasted long...
Reality would burst into his dreams like the screams of a tortured man. The prisoner was being questioned again...captured alone and with no possetions, there was nothing to tie him to the situation...but our officers were convinced otherwise.
We all knew something for sure, you can take a man's freedom but you can never take his education...and this man was...
They pulled up to the old bar, the Far Bar. They had been there numerous times before, but this was to be their last before projecting out of their own bodies and into some others.
"Come on, dad, of course she remembers you. Will you please just mellow out and come inside with me?"
"No way, buddy boy. You go right on in. Fuck her for all I care. Just let me lie in this car. This is where I'll die. Right here...in the volvo."
The son jumped out of the car and fisted his hand in a knot, shaking...
Christmas morning. It was always something excting and special when I was growing up. There would be a grand Christmas tree set up in the corner, sparkling with the many cheerful lights, music playing softly in the background, and the smell of fresh holiday baking floating in the air. As kids, we would always sleep underneath the dinning room table on that night before Christmas. Well, sleep may not be the right term, we were usually much too excited to close our eyes. In the morning at 7:30 sharp, we would rouse my parents out of bed and gather around...
She didn't look at him. She couldn't. He was standing there, and she didn't recognize him. Alex hurt Keri. Beyond hurt. Four years of sleeping together during summer and winter breaks from his Catholic college in Ohio HAD to mean something. Didn't they?
Not to him. Not anymore. He wasn't in it for the same reasons. Maybe he knew Keri loved Zak, too. Maybe Alex knew that deep inside Keri really loved them both (she hoped neither of them knew about each other, at least). Maybe he hoped that Zak would love her back so she wouldn't be so hurt...
Three pigeons landed near a sleeping homeless person, huddled up in the alcove of a building along 4th Street. The biggest pigeon, Paul, strutted by the slumbering figure as Marta, the medium-sized pigeon, walked by pretending not to see.
Paul said, "Marta, how can you just ignore this man? If I recall, you were homeless once, too."
Marta stopped to peck aimlessly at a crumb of bagel on the street.
The third pigeon, Gideon, was looking across the street at the bustling bakery, hoping to spot somebody dropping a morsel of bread or muffin, preferably banana-nut, because it was his...
The drive had been long and hot, and Mac's head barely cleared the top of the steering wheel. Betsy was being an incorrigible fuss, and Mac was silently fantasizing about slamming on the brakes and shoving her out of the passenger side door.
Maybe it was the hat.
He asked her, begged her not to wear the hat, but she knew it would get under his skin like nothing else (except maybe singing show tunes as loudly as possible, so she popped it on her head with a smile and hopped into the truck without saying a word.
That was...
There once was a man in a sphere
Whose outward appearance was queer
He was hard to mistake
For the sphere was opaque
Because he had filled it with beer
"I hope he gets it - thanks Alex, talk soon." Keri hung up the phone, and I hoped I did the right thing. Keri and I were together off-and-on for 4 years or so. She loved me, I knew that. Not until after I broke promises and left her alone, only for her to be so hurt she went to be with my brother, who hurt her even more.
I haven't spoken to Keri since the time I promised her I'd take a Greyhound to visit her in Niagara Falls, and I didn't go and she never forgave me. That...
Chopin and nature. Like a French-pressed cup of coffee and Swiss chocolate.
But was it nature that inspired this feast for the eyes? How did Chopin filter out the noise to create his masterpiece? Must I do the same?
I switch to Vivaldi, an upbeat piece known for it's nature qualities. The Four Seasons. Ahh...that's perfect. I sink into the hammock, the soft southern breeze cooling my hair as I rock gently back and forth. Lulled to sleep by a dead guy...
I wake up. This is all wrong. This can't be right. I'm missing something...
The song is over,...