She didn't look at him she couldn't tell him. She couldn't even tell her family. What would they say? What would they think? Thanksgiving is tomorrow and the family is coming. Everyone even Lilian her fathers new wife she hasn't met but she aware is three months pregnant. He was so excited about what he got her. She wouldnf make eye contact with him thought she was ashamed of what she did. Six long years they spend together was ruined because of one night to many bares and laces panties. She didn't notice how much they had in common until...
I broke away from him and held my unbrella over my head as I walked, my head held high. "Erika! Erika!" I stopped in my tracks, spun on my heel and stared at him. "What?" He didn't move closer to me even as people jabbed and pushed past him on the street. The fresh raindrops fell onto my outstretched hand and created a gentle humming sound as they hit the ground around me. "I'm sorry. I never should have said that." He was right, he sure shouldn't have said that to me. But then... He just stood there, rain dripping...
"Honey?"
"What is it?" Sharon asked, not looking up from her work.
"Do you know why there are a couple of police outside wearing masks?"
"Um ... can't say that I do," she lied. Damn. They weren't supposed to get here so soon.
"Shall I let them in?" Camden said.
"Sure," Sharon replied. "We have nothing to hide, right, dear?"
A minute later, the two were standing before her in the living room. "Sharon Vasquez?" one of them said.
"That's me," Sharon said blithely.
"You're under arrest."
"What for?" she said, trying to sound indignant.
"The charge is causing a...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Stupid thing, thought Lisa as she slammed her fist against it. That's what you get for buying cheap tat, though. She was a sucker for a bargain, or anything she perceived to be a bargain. There was of course, a vast difference. One time she had bought three crates of dog food from a clearance store.
'But you haven't got a dog!' her boyfriend had cexclaimed.
'Yes, but it was so cheap!' she had countered. This logic making perfect sense to her.
She tapped the lamp again, absent mindedly. Nothing. Not even a flicker. Zilch....
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. He had to find Emma. He fought against the flow of people pressing against him. He had long ago given up on trying to be civil and careful with the people going the other way. Panic showed in their eyes as in his. Where was she? Emma he called, Emma. Louder, again and again. Emma! His voice cracked the lump in his throught killing all sound. He pushed harder pressing himself through tiny spaces between and over people. The farther he got the more chaotic his surroundings. Emma, he looked around, scanning...
We're not familiar with the same weather or same temperatures. I don't know the blazing heat of the desert. You've never felt the deep wet cold of the Atlantic states. And then there's the sun and the moon, and the underside of the asteroid grazing our comfort zone.
We could sing country songs in the backyard tonight. It'll be cold, but dry, and Venus is near the moon.
We'll begin at dusk. My dusk, your dusk, and the dusk of deserts, dusk of satellites. Hot dusk, chilling dusk.
Dusk, dusk.
The ocean, the land, the bridge. These are the metaphors of my life. I stand on sinking ground, toes curled against the tension of the the surf and sand, the give and take, the conquest and retreat. Submerge into eternity or hold my ground a while longer?
There is, of course, the bridge. The mediator. It arches over the rivals, dipping into one, clutching the hands of the other. It's base is mossy, cool, a fuzzed pillar for fish to dart around. It's back is hot, sunbaked.
The bridge is the holder of peace. It is the symbol of one....
Proles. Can't live with them, cant get elected without them. If I had my way, we'd remove them from the process entirely and let the "adults" handle the important stuff. Sure, we'll throw them a bone every once in a while, you know, just to keep up the illusion that they hold some sort of sway, but honestly, who cares what they really think.
The worst are the ones who try to organize. Luckily, all it takes is a well-timed act of violence. Hell, sometimes it doesn't even require anything more than a vague threat. Remember the dairy farmer uprising?...
Thats the kind of life I dream about, one where i stop to arch in the wind alongside the flowers. The life I have, it's not so much like that, I rarely stop, seldom arch, I stride, I talk, I eat I drink, I spend, I worry. But I know the wind blows and the flowers go gently with it, and they'll be there one day when I stop to see them, to sit with them
and bend.
She opened the envelope and screamed. The paper didn't so much as drop to the floor as simply fall apart in her hands, clear liquid eating its way out of the corners and seeping everywhere, floor, clothes skin.
She screamed again as the contents of the envelope liquidated the very flesh from her hands. She turned sharply as the back door banged, meeting the horrified eyes of her husband through a blur of tears.
"Holy fuck," was all that he whispered as he grabbed the 'phone from the side and dialled 999, barking orders for an ambulance.
"Why would they...