he stirred in his sleep.Do you want to? She said, and flashed a smile his way.More Like This
Not particularly, came the reply.
Her face sparkled more than it should have and she kissed him. Alcohol was heavy on her breath. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, their lips parted as she skipped off the road and onto the pavement. He stood in the middle of a street he couldn't remember the name of and watched her dance along the concrete. She beckoned for him to follow, saying come on, and then prancing away ahead of him, her dress billowing slightly. He meandered lazily towards her, his steps more uneven than they should have been.
They continued down the street, him lagging behind, his feet unwilling to catch up.
Headlights glared up the road, and then got bigger. He stumbled onto the footpath and they both stopped to stare at the lights. A police car cruised by them, and they both watched. When he looked back at her, he found her on the ground, frowning. Oops! was all she said, and held out her hand. He looked at her and
more than windmy low tides, opposite winds, this newest cold -More Like This
a distant change, thus Voltaire's cause & effect.
neither lack his optimisms.
i've never needed Aristotle's Law or discovery of the moon.
she told me with a lesser shine, her dulled wits, her love like sold.
seasons are so long.
The Soul-StealerMore Like This
"Every Sunday I steal children's souls."
She spoke the words slowly, simply, relishing the way her tongue moved against her lips. Smiling slightly at her own private joke, she turned slowly to the man on the bench beside her. She knew that he had heard what she said, and he was trying his best to ignore her, fearful of this strange girl beside him. She could almost hear his thoughts: Why do freaks always choose to bother me? What have I done to deserve this? I hope she goes away. Please, please let the bus come soon…
"It doesn't hurt 'em, though. It really doesn't. You might think it would but it doesn't. I find their artwork at the elementary school. You know the one on Newport Street? That one."
He turned the page of his newspaper.
" 'Cause art is part of your soul, you know. It's true, it really is. Even if you're a little kid. Especially if you're a little kid. It's pure, that's why. They don't really worry about what concept they're doing or the if the assign