Running around the edge of an event horizon, static crackling, I never reach the black hole, or it's pulling me in ever so slowly.
After I met them, I thought I'd meet you. It seemed logical, even mathematical, that I would. But I didn't.
And now they're gone with only the echo vibrating, its waves ever-widening, seeking an elusive purchase.
My tastes widened for a while. I found brotherhood in loneliness, soon sought the sun, from one point in the universe to another.
Eventually I heard their songs through the static as a new black hole waltzed my way.
The...
Headphones on, gazing far out into the horizon, the tops of the Adirondacks at her feet, flowing out into the valley like waves, going for miles. He was behind her. Her father had fallen on the path up to this point. He had clutched his chest and complained of shooting pains down the arm, but she hadn't listened. She was at that age, the precipice of adulthood teetering before her, and she was certain she no longer needed to listen to her father, not about this, not about anything. But when they reached the crest of the hill, she looked...
She walked slowly, the sound of her shoes crunching the leaves beneath her. Her dark, brown curls fell on to her shoulders, and her snow-white skirt blew in the wind. To a passer-by, she was simply a stranger. A beautiful stranger, in fact, but in reality, her soul was darker than the night of a new moon. Nobody knew what she had done. The cute, innocent farm girl was not as virtuous as she seemed.
Wine.
"Wine is the one thing we have left in common," he thought, looking out over the set table before him. She had opted for the house red, as he did. She hadn't drunk much of her glass; no time for it between the business at hand. He had gorged himself of his own glass.
She drew some papers from her bag. Starched, sparkling papers with her lawyer's mark on them.
"Her lawyer's mark on her," he thought.
He motioned the waiter to quickly refill his cup. He emptied it with equal alacrity.
Not words, but papers passed between them....
A dry, sandy summer like this one. I had met him just a mile down, by the Shell gas station, his cowboy boots kicking up a torrid storm as he leaned against an electric pole and kicked a Pepsi can out of his way -- it rolled like a tumbling weed before coming to a halt at my sandal-wrapped toes.
I picked it up, sand and dust whirling around me, forcing themselves into the slits of my eyes. "Hey cowboy."
He looked at me and said nothing. He lured me in with absolutely nothing but an intense blue stare as...
The wagon was now about 100 feet away. I was rooted to the spot with fear. Perspiration ran down my face and my heart was pounding in my head, I was shaking and powerless to move.
I looked at my son who was stood just a few yards away, His face full of fatigue and fear. I thought I could hear his thoughts..."this is hopeless," we can't do a thing and there is no hope.
If only someone could come and help I thought and screamed it inside a hundred times.
I don't remember the trip to the hospital.But, I...
They were listening. Ears pressed against the glass, as if it were opaque, like the doors they used to listen through when Kat and Patrick used to fight.
There was nobody in the room behind the window, just the green house and the plants which grew too slowly to notice, but somehow enough to garner praise once they had become large and showy. Lillian seemed to be listening with concentration and Indy, he couldn't help but feel like he had missed the point.
"What is it we're listening for, again?"
"Shh."
"But I'm-"
"Shh. I said shh. You're listening them...
I know, I know, there's a million things I need to do. Every day, a million things. Check this, talk to him, to her. Don't forget to fill this out. Drive there, don't forget. Get it right the first time so you don't lose more time doing it twice. Or worse.
Only at the end of the day, is it legal to relax. Only when the world is on half-time, lunch break, dinner break, time out, penalty box.
The sun is one big green light for everyone. You can't stop when the world is go.
If I didn't want to...
Ceci n'est pas un garçon.
The dapper man picked up a penny. He rolled it around in his fingers, enjoying the coolness of it. It was raining, and he had had only seen it because the bronze colour had shone up in the middle of a shallow puddle.
The dapper man remembered a rhyme he had heard when he was tiny. See a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck. He thought there might be more to it than that, but that was enough for now. He had a Very Important Meeting to go to that afternoon, and if a bit...