Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"
"Come on, then," she said, impishly.
"I can't. You know I can;''t cross the line. I'll have to go back."
It's just how it works. It's a liminal space. I'll explain if you put the book down and step away."
She looked baffled, then nervous. "I can't! It's stuck to me."
On no! "Then bring it to me. Quickly. Please."
"What's happening." Her voice was flat, lacking timbre. She was fading and I couldn't get to her. I only had seconds.
"Stay where you end up. Don't move....
My stomach felt like a balloon under my fingers. The cold gel pinned my thoughts onto the effort of not peeing. “The fetus sack is visualised”, the operator announced to no one in particular, startling me out of my penance. I looked up at him, then at the screen he was facing. The patches of grey kept moving, like clouds on a breezy day. A dot stood out. A tiny dot that seemed to throb. Both of us stared at it, though only one did with any knowledge.
I knew it was mine. I had made it, maybe the first...
When we go to work. We have memories of all kinds, from the good, the funny, the annoying. Just all kinds of memories that you will still remember as time goes on.
One of my recent memories from work was when one of my co-workers had scared my supervisor on purpose.
We were sitting at the desk when me and another co-worker of mine noticed her acting a bit suspicious, albeit in a funny way. When she hid under the desk, she put her finger to her lips telling us the "shush." Picking up the hint, we acted as if...
They laughed at the little thing as it squirmed
The dark water so close but so far away now in their minds
The way things change the eye flits away reconstructs
Safety is everywhere in this dangerous time, safety is in the struggling eyes of a small thing
They left it to it's toil the diurnal nocturnal pull of it's nature
Clinging to the raft looking at the shore
The sun warm and pure on it's matted fur
I was my own villain my own devastating ending
The back of the car has not been cleaned very well, candy wrappers, a dogs toy. None of it speaks to me today none of it means anything. I lie here and imagine stars, the smell of campfires, oceans, sex.
I was my own Hero
The parking brake sticks sometimes the left turn signal works but you can't tell from inside. Let it drift down the big hills, brake pads aren't free.
Run your finger on the fake wood grain, pray for rain, pray for peace. The trick is to let...
Feeling like a fool, alone but still wondering how she looked, how she looked to other people. She should just allow it to die to apps on into whatever, darkness, light, next. she unfolded upward and took a picture, morbid and wrong the dust on her knees felt like it was teeming with death and life the circle of things. How to escape a forest it would be the title of her first and last book. Few would read she would place the first copy here next to a half remembered site where a corpse of something beautiful l once...
I am in Palm Springs the sun the haze the people I am in focus everything behind me is a blur an attractive sexy blur. I am in focus, focus with a lower case f. I want to tell you something I want to tell you what it feels like all hot and steamy the way chilled alcohol burns and tingles demands more my throat loose my toes free the smell of grass the smell of pools. I want to tell you something something about time about memory about thinking that things would never end never get bad I want...
She was looking ahead, eyes parallel with the ground.
She was looking ahead, eyes perpendicular with the ground.
Parallel. Perpendicular. Parallel. Perpen... parallel.
The car came to rest. Her weight pressed her into the seatbelt. Gravity pressed her really, but she thought of her weight first. Gene had made her borderline bulimic. Speaking of: she wretched onto the ceiling of the car.
Gene's eyes, perpendicular, winced. "Lovely," he said.
Her eyes closed. "Just one last puke, to cap off a year of puke together."
"A year of memorable voms. Remember the first one?"
In her rear-view mirror, she saw Gene turn. He looked at the bush, at her, at the bush again, and then felt his pockets. Phone, wallet, ke...
He bolted for the bush. Heather slammed her hand against the ignition and turned the key. Grinding metal. The car was already on. She floored it and turned for the bush. No clear plan had formed in her mind but she could see Gene sprinting. The bush arrived and the car rose up to meet it, bouncing over the rockery and screeching up the hill. Grinding metal again. The wheels were spinning. Smoke...
In the scheme of things, it wasn't a permanent state I was after. Just long enough to get on stage, dance for two minutes and fifteen seconds, and get off.
Five pounds, what did that even look like. I dragged the scale into the kitchen and got out a can of beans. 1.3 lbs. A gallon of milk. 8.33lbs. Two boxes of fish sticks didn't even move the needle. A giant bag of shrimp. I mean, GIANT. Boom. Five pounds.
I needed to shed a GIANT bag of shrimp in a matter of days. I eyed the shrimp, their gray...