"I hate you! Get out of my face!"
Wow. That's just the way any teenage girl wants to start her day: the most popular guy in school declares in front of the entire gym class that he hates her guts.
Well, that's just the story of my life these days. Everyone who's anyone hates me. As if to emphesize that point, a red ball crashes into my face, knocking off my glasses.
"Simmons! You're out!" the gym teacher's voice echoes though the gym.
So, I go settle on the bleachers with the rest of the people out of the most...
The darkness was approaching. The reds and oranges of the sunset, creeping together with the blackness that occurs when it's time for the moon. Contemplating life, reaching for answers. Like, "why did I leave home," "how did I watch him pack the car and drive away?" and others. Soul-searching. The sound of crickets, the rustling of small animals. I was scared, but not of my surroundings, just of what my late 20's had become. A joke, a hot mess, a scandal, some lies. I bet that's what people were thinking of me anyway. A job I hated, a life I...
The Moon would never be the same again.
Sure, nothing important in its construction had changed. It was still the same old mass of rock hanging on an ever-decaying orbit around the larger mass of rock that we call home. But it was different.
Maybe the giant structure unfolding on its surface had something to do with it.
This mission had taken years to even green-light, never mind anything else. But now, we were here. Standing on the moon, with a base. It wasn't anything special, though. We were heading to Mars with a similar base the next week.
But...
I looked out over the masses. Between me and my goal milled hundreds of the worst sort of pedestrians. Tourists. Somewhere across the piazza a girl, and her girl, waited.
This date...more than any other...I could not fuck up.
I started across the sunstruck stones, their heat searing even through my shoes. The picnic basket in my hand no longer seemed so grand an idea as I sought to twist and push through any gap that presented itself.
Didn't these fools know that I had someplace I needed to go?
Every yard of progress seemed to cost me more time...
"I hate him. He could get hit by a car randomly in the street, and it wouldn't matter to me. It would probably make my days better."
Anyway, it happened. It would. And so then the whole school was plunged into mourning of varying depths. Mourning of the grievous type, and mourning of the more celebratory kind.
Let's be honest. He made everyone's life miserable. He never bothered to even sit. His room was the hallway, not a desk.
The administrator who suspended him that day couldn't stop questioning himself: could I have done more? Should I have done it?...
2070. Man enters final stages of the information age! The shortest technological age of human history. With the global bandwidth of each home computer reaching a collective average of 1GB per-second, cell phones capable of literally recording an entire persons life, from womb-to-tomb, and neural implants giving humans longevity and superior thinking processes. The information age, though a short yet potent time, is nearing it's end. Soon we will be entering the space age. With the completion of the atmospheric tower, which will eliminate the need for rocket propulsion in order to leave our beautiful planet.
Daring to be noticed for the first timein her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
The room fell silent as she began to speak croakily at first and with a slight tremor in her voice. But, as she continued, her words became clearer ad sweeter by the second. He was transfixed at the way her eyes began to sparkle. They were bluer than he remembered and the delicate flush in her cheeks added much to her delicate beauty. In all the weeks thay had been attending the group he hadn't realised just how lovely she was. He...
I remember when I was a kid. I sat on the edge of my father's car, waiting for him come home from his walks. I would go there to think sometimes, puzzling over my day. But today, 18 years later, I sit in silence.
I'm not waiting for anyone.
I'm thinking, though.
About my father. He's dead.
He doesn't go on his daily walks anymore, never will. I climb in the car, embracing his scent, closing my eyes and taking it all in. I live alone, no wife, no children. But they won't meet their grandfather.
I loved him. He...
Finally. Mom would be pissed, dad will be furious, and well, Auntie Selah will have a martini in my honor.
Perfect for me? Good family? Education, potential, background of a presidents son, check.
But he totally does not give a shit about what is most important to me. He refuses to accept my reasoning that animals are here for their own purposes and are not for consumption, entertainment, or anything else. I am VEGAN. He is cruel enough to smile through dinners, arguing with me that this is all very temporary and that as soon as we are married he'll...
My father was born. The pressed leaves of Limerick brushed from the crib. A mirage shimmers over the pond. Ships and flags and trucks. Red brick stoops on analog streets. Lamps on the corners.
We move and it is 30 years later. Soon the crushed leaves of New York gather. The east coast bleeds in tides, rushing us over the Plains.
In the West, we dry in the momentary sun, then open our mouths for the never-ending rain.