Trivia.
The whole day, every conversation, made up of trivia.
In the hairdressers, as she was washed, chopped, primped and preened, a plehora of trivia punctuated the air.
Holidays (of course) and the weather (predictably). The latest reality show shockers (nauseating) and trivia about cat hairs (surprisingly).
Over two hours she knew all about the hair stylists horrific corns, her allergy to peanuts and passion for Jimmy Choos.
Trivia.
But trivia has it's uses.
Especially when your stalking your husbands latest fancy piece. She would soon be dead.
Martin put the off-white china mug to his thin lips and took a long drink of his rapidly cooling coffee. His eyes scanned over the classified ads for the hundredth time but, once again, there was nothing. Nothing in his field, nothing in his area, nothing, nothing, nothing. The pen poised in his right hand tapped against the page angerly and he took another mouthful, swishing the lukewarm liquid between his cheeks.
"Good morning, pumpkin." Candice's bare feet padded along the bare hardwood behind him, and Martin soon found his girlfriend's arms wrapped tightly around his chest, her face buried...
She turns around, but he has vanished again. She weighs the pros and cons of speaking before opening her mouth.
"I can see you," she says.
"I know," he replies. "I know."
Those two words send a chill up her spine. "What do you know?" she asks.
"I know," he repeats. Out of the corner of her eye she catches a blur disappearing behind a tree. That's where he's hiding, then.
"What do you know?" Now, she must simply be careful. It will be easy enough to catch him.
"I know." These last two words are breathed down her neck....
War. Criminals. Theft. Violence. These things could not settle in his mind. As soon as they floated in they flew out. His thoughts were too preoccupied with positive, nostalgic memories. He felt no more sadness, anger, frustration towards the world. The only concept that could attract these ideas to his head is the same one which invokes passion, determination, hope into his heart. His love was an oxymoron. Numbing him to the world yet causing so much strife within himself, within his ideas of romance.. of Rome. The only thing that had any significance in his life lived a thousand...
"I feel boxed in," she said.
"I'm sorry?" he replied, not quite understanding.
"Well, the basic thing is this: the image is quite boring, and the color scheme is obnoxious, a weird, misguided attempt at the painterly surrealism that Richard Linklater's Waking Life first presented in film. Add to that two gigantic butterflies, and the whole thing just falls apart. But despite the silliness of the painting, however, there's really no room for absurdity. Characters can't wave pistols around or smoke cigars or get hit in the forehead with boards. I'm boxed in. I have nowhere to go. It's too...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Twice, in Singapore, she sat by a fountain.
Three times, in Kuala Lumpur, at three different locations, she waited by Banyan trees.
She was waiting. Always waiting.
She was waiting for me.
She didn't know that I knew that she was waiting for me, but enough money, in the right pockets, can keep me out of trouble. *Has* kept me out of trouble for the past four years. Kept me out of her hands. Out of the hands of the people who wanted to find me....
Fish meant for market was found dumped in a bin outside the school. The mother believed the rotting smell would disguise her hidden bundle beneath. Her post-birth addled brain forgetting only papers were supposed to be in that container and what she tried to dispose would be eventually found.
Margarita wasn't a bad person. She did what she thought best at the time. Took her baby to the church and left her on the steps timing so the priest would find it. The bloody towels, rags, her own clothing stuffed below the fish. She kept the umbilical cord and placenta....
People always said that I was like a coin. I had two sides.
No one really knew what side they were speaking to. I'd always laugh it off and say I as a Gemini by nature. I had two personalities. I had two ways of looking at things. I was two people.
Until one of them died. The happy side. The reasonable side. The rational side. The RIGHT side. For some reason I just stopped being a double act.
What was left was wrong. I am wrong now. Many people had left me when that side died. My sister would...
They were listening. Annette had no problem reading a report in school to a classroom full of students who were busy catching up on homework, drawing doodles, or discreetly pulling out their cellphones when nobody was looking; but this was different.
This was in front of people who'd come voluntarily. People who /wanted/ to hear what she'd written. People who actually enjoyed talking about math in their free time. Weirdos.
And that's what scared Annette. They were listening. If she'd done poorly, they'd actually care. They had a passion for the subject that she'd hated, despite her natural talent. Why,...
Gigantic. It's not a word you use to describe a penis. It's too bulky. Women want softer words. More exotic words. Words that whisper and moan.
Never start with sex either. You start in the middle of things and the audience has nowhere to go. I recommend a bus stop. You get a conversation going. Maybe about how yellow the daisies are lately or why the bees are dying.
Of course you'll think the audience will get impatient. Get to the hard core sex already! But they won't. Anticipation and all. I once wrote a story that had fourteen pages...