"There," said Asad. He pointed to the horizon, his eyes crinkled with nostalgia. "That's where I saw her for the first time."
I followed the direction of his outstretched finger. The ocean was cold and dappled by the late afternoon sunshine peering through the clouds. It seemed vast and endless, and I was overcome by the urge to laugh at him.
"How can you be sure of where you saw her? This is the goddamn ocean. It all looks the same!"
"No." He shook his head, a firm, decisive movement. "I know. That is the place where we met. The...
She'd been in the park till noon, watching the gate to the Forbidden City, seeing the tourists as they milled about in mist-rimed sunshine. Finally, she caught sight of him as he approached the gate. Every day without fail, staggering slightly under the weight of his bag. She was overdressed for the streets in a red dress meant for parties not park benches. Flung out suddenly from the warmth of the car, out of favour and, quite suddenly without comfort. At the bottom of the hill she lost him briefly, then saw him, walking alongside two Western tourists, his sack...
The water was clear. It was really vodka in her glass, though. Tonight she was getting wasted, for sure. Today's class lectures and her shitty breakup with Owen had Tonya crying about every 20 minutes in her dorm room, and she would run out of class like she had to go to the bathroom, but throwup and sob for about 5 minutes and nonchalantly go back to the lecture. Now she was at O'Callaghan's downtown and her vodka on the rocks was getting the job done, for now. She liked drinking straight, it got her drunk faster. Next she would...
"Bad way to go," said Detective Renfield. He was standing over the body (or what was left of it) with his arms akimbo.
I sighed, adjusting my hat to better shade me from the hot sun. "Fourth case this month," I reminded him. "Maybe city hall will finally get serious about the pigeons after this."
"Nah, I wouldn't count on it," my partner said cynically. "A few bums get eaten by pigeons, what do folk like them care?"
"According the statistics, the pigeon population's tripled in just a few months," I remarked, thinking back to my interview with Professor Gendry....
Round and Round and Round she goes, where she'll stop, no one knows...
"Another cuppa, please. I've got a long night to go" The lady at the bar say, rubbing her eyes
I oblige quietly once she hands over the two pounds fifty it costs.
Life moves fast here. So many people pass through, all of them blur after a while, here on the stretch. Most don't stay more then an hour- others like Howard stay for years. Black and white. Here or gone.
I wish I could be one of the ones to leave here. It's odd, because it...
She hated when people asked where she came from. She didn't like dwelling on the past, or for that matter, thinking of it at all.
The past made her feel weak, vulnerable. She loathed feeling that way.
She wasn't weak, like her mother. Her mother stayed with him to rot.
But not Laura, she got out as soon as she could. As far away as she could from him, the man that had the nerve to call himself her father.
He was evil, he was a monster that haunted her dreams, she hated him. Him and his "holier then though"...
Mia and John sat by the stones, and no one noticed them.
"You shouldn't be here." John explained.
"My dad's hated here, so what? I need to know the truth."
John ducked under a tree, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Your dad is traced back to you. His enemies are yours now."
"You mean people want to kill me?"
"Just people you're dad took from." John said quietly, a blur against the dark stones.
Mia looked at him, incredulous. "It could be any of these people."
She looked around, and saw people through windows, walking through the streets,
"Goodnight..." My baby sleeps in my arms, her little hands balled up into tiny fists.
"Goodnight..." My baby lays in bed with her pigtails loose and her pajama's too small.
"Goodnight..." My baby dances and twirls herself to her room; dancing on air and blinded by love.
"Goodnight..." My baby waves from the car as they drive away, her white dress shining like the tears in my eyes.
"Goodnight..." My baby rocks her baby to sleep and I smile.
"Goodnight..." My baby kisses my hand and I drift away.
There once was a woman from Kenya
Who grew a voracious gardenia
A plant that ate men
With a touch of cayenne
That the woman decided to send ya
The moon was judging me. There was no doubt about it. It was staring me in the eye like a big pizza pie. Judging.
Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn't have spread all those rumors about you, moon! No, I don't believe you're actually made of the blood and sweat of innocent cheeses. No, I don't believe you're the one who secretly caused the Great Chicago Fire, or that you tap our phone lines and replay particularly embarrassing conversations with ex-girlfriends back for the constellations. I just say these things because you frighten me, quite frankly.
I'm only human, though. What's...