The zephyr through the thin strands of hair on his forehead produced a little fandango; the wind brought the music and the sun brought the party.
The Queen had personally requested his presence for the opening of this exhibition, it was meant to show the culture, the class, of the kingdom.
But this Bohemian was not here at some petty whim of Her Majesty. He was here for something more majestic than any monarch, that most glittering, glamorous goal. He was here for a girl.
Golden hair, blue eyes, red lips, petite smile; a man would kill for such a...
-Let's get this over with. Sister Mary said
-Fine with me. I said, trying to act tough.
-You have twenty minutes on each section, the first section is fill in the blanks, the second is multiple choice and the last section is a prompted essay. I will begin the timer when you pick up the pencil.
She said in that cold tone I had learned to loathe. She didn't have enough evidence to get me expelled, but it was enough to force me to retake the final.
-Are you nervous? She added after letting the silent tension grow. She hadn't...
Gregor couldn't focus. The sample problems in his textbook grew more and more indiscernible as the noises from next door grew louder and louder.
His neighbor was the problem. When Gregor had first moved into the apartment he didn't have a neighbor. Until one day he was awoken by a construction crew. Gregor's distracted mind drifted back to that morning. He remembered asking the construction worker.
-Hey, what's the story, man?
-Some bass with a trust fund is moving in. He's paying to waterproof the apartment so he can move in.
-A Bass? As in the freshwater fish? That's crazy...
He sat in the corner with that look on his face, that look that said, I am about to speak.
"Let's get up and go."
I felt so sick, my joints ached, my mouth felt like it had been dry since the moment I was born. I got up anyway. There was no point resisting.
"We've gotta hustle." He said preemptively thwarting the gleam of protest he already suspected.
"But I'm so tired, baby." I said, hoping in vain that he would go for me.
We got off the cold floor without another word. I threw up on the way...
Dane took another well-aimed pump at the car. The iron pipe splattered headlight glass all over the curb.
"Good fuck!" I sputtered, "What's wrong with your freako eyes?"
"I'm sick. Some sort of crow disease. Can't be helped. Hand me that roll of tape." He pumped his fist while taping diapers to the antenna with his free hand, reeling to some invisible unholy orchestra. Probably electro. Probably some sort of depeche mode shit zonking around in his gourd. His eyes bugged yellow and I knew he had finally gotten news that yes, it was cancer, and yes, it was hereditary....
Gene started thinking up missions. Find a tapedeck, sparklers, foam hats, and a Tears for Fears hat. Re-enact a concert in the parking lot of some three dollar hotel. Load the back of Dave's truck up with lawn furniture and mailboxes - whatever isn't tied down. Cut down all the trees on one block on the East side under the guise of city workers.
Gene fumbled with the cats. He hat taped their four tails together and begun the arduous process of spraypainting them gold when some three Spanish children skidded to a halt in front of Gene's yard. "Making...
Shit.
Her hat just blew off in the wind. Well, it wasn't so much wind as the fact that she stuck her head out the car window to get a better look at the flashing lights.
The cops probably wouldn't be too happy if they stopped to retrieve it. Another one lost.
It was her Mariner's baseball hat, the one that shielded her from the torrential rain in Singapore; the one that bleached to a dull slate gray from the sun in New Mexico; the one that she wore whenever the Mariners ended up losing. It wasn't so much a...
She sat staring at the skin of her hands. Her eyes traced the many lines, imagining the skin to be the brown, scorched earth of deserts, thirsty for life.
The wrinkled skin gathered above her enlarged knuckles, reminding her of dried fruit.
She continued examining her hands, wondering how the finiteness of life had come to suddenly feel so tangible.
Her veins somehow looked foreign. Her age had caused her veins to become like strange, throbbing, river-like threads of yarn, sewn to her flesh, invading her hands.
She rubbed the underside of her index finger against the rough surface of...
He pounded his head on the wall to the rhythm of the heavy bass. Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom.
He'd attempted diplomacy already. Repeated knocks on the door had gone unanswered. No wonder: they probably assumed it was the music.
He'd attempted passive-aggressively turning his own music up to the max. Some good that does on a MacBook.
Nor did calling the neighbors help. The RA he'd summoned had joined the party.
3am on a Tuesday morning, in finals week. Deridda wasn't getting any easier. What would Deridda do? Hey thought. WWDD. Which was about the sound his forehead made...
"And, did he ever touch you inappropriately?"
Sarah paused her story for a moment, growing red in the face. "What?"
"Did he ever touch you, it's okay, you're not alone. This office is a safe place."
"Why would you even ask?" Sarah nearly yelled in her surprise.
"Look, I get a lot of patients coming through here and I just want them to know that they can talk to me freely. It would be statistically plausible that he touched you at one point."
"It would?"
"Yes, look, I have your breast interests in mind."
"Well... maybe, I dunno."
"He probably...