He set the plate before her. She forced a smile, painted lips curving upwards to reveal tips of white teeth. This was his proposal, the setting down of that plate. If she refused to eat, she could leave whenever she wanted without fuss. If she chose to taste of his food, then his actions would be without consequence.
"Are you going to eat?" He asked, sitting down opposite her and picking up his wine glass by the stem with long fingers.
"Are you not?" She replies, voice quiet and on the point of breaking over every sound.
"This is for...
She moved through my dreams in the silver slippers of moonlight. I shivered. It seemed as though something had touched me. I could hear the early morning mist slip off the slumbering streets...my bones shuddered and I longed in those lucid moments for warmth.
Did you breath? I felt a soft air cross my cheeks as I struggled against the frostiness cast by being in the limbo between sleeping and waking. Touch me! Touch me! make me come alive again, don't let me drift into cold darkness.
Sunlight drove hard through the window and fell on my cheek...is it your...
She opened the fridge and took out a jar of pickles. Rubbing the condensation off her fingers onto her jeans, she prized the lid off and pulled out a spear.
Crunching away, she rifled through the crisper drawer, but didn't find anything appealing. She noticed there was still paint on the back of her hand, but she was too tired to rub it away.
The house was quiet, except for the snoring of her husband, which carried through the house. She was beginning to feel like she heard more from him when he was asleep then when he was awake....
That letter I almost-wrote? I almost told you today through a text. It wouldn't have come out the same. The "Hey I almost wrote you a letter saying..." text... I can't imagine the response I would have gotten.
Instead you told me to runaway. Runaway to see you. To LIVE with you. To leave my life behind that I'm apparently messing up and too young to be living. Live with you in a state I've never visited to an apartment I've never even seen in pictures. To an address I've never sent a letter to...
What to do, what to...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The asassin tracked the victim across the city, determined to finish his mission. He slid through the shadows, his black clothing blending perfectly with the night. Suddenly, the victim stopped. The killer was on alert at once. he lifted the 45. caliber and readied himself to pull the trigger. Suddenly, it all went black. He had been knocked to the gr
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. There were angels on my lawn. Dirty, foul things. They pecked at my roses, tearing at them with their claws. They left shit and mud stained feathers all over the lawn. They peed on everything.
I'd tried that new Angel B Gone spray but it only made them frisky. A few started having sex on my lawn. My Jem had to get out the garden hose to chase them away.
I'd tried to trap them. I bought great big cages from the hardware store and pieces of cheese to lure them in. They...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. Tears falling and falling down Alyssa's face. She had a picture of them together on her lap. She had always felt like running away, this time she was gonna do it. She never felt like the perfect girl, especially not for Tommy. She felt too young to be with him, too old to be told what to do. The bed was made, and she was leaving a crinkle on the comforter where she was sitting. She was praying that she was alone; and that he could just find her later after his 'staff...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The young man stared down at the gun which was now locked and loaded, closing his eyes and taking several long breaths before looking over to where his older and more seasoned counterpart had been standing.
"We're going to die, aren't we," the young man commented, the hand holding the pistol starting to shake as his older counterpart exhaled heavily.
"We're all going to die someday," he mused in return. "So what if today is our day."
The young man sighed and looked back down at the gun in his hands. "I don't...
Ridiculous. He had never been so ill-treated in his whole life. To think that such an imbecilic, poorly-dressed, snivel-nosed shit could have the AUDACITY to pour a saintly bordeaux all over his wife put such beet red hues into his cheeks as to suggest asphyxiation, or potential heart failure.
The fat man shook, with an angry tectonic rumble, and the whole room seemed to hold slack for his reaction, volatile elements stirring with life...
"What in the hell do you THINK you ARE DOING!??" the fat fuck rumbles. His gold watch chain jangles with the bulbous rolling of his obese...
Ridiculous. He was being utterly ridiculous.
"Married? You want to get married?" She stared at him with dumbfounded annoyance. He looked completely serious.
"Of course I do. Don't you? What is so absurd about getting married? I thought we were happy."
She closed her eyes for a moment, held them shut tightly, and reopened them. Nope, she thought. Still there. Still looking at me, waiting, expecting.
"Jim, we can't get married. You must be crazy. I was going to ask you to take me home, but I think I'll call a cab." She reached into her purse to pull out...