This is just a feeling, comparable to night swimming as a child, imagery I can fall back into with ease ( Read more... )

She’s all warmth and breezy affection, eager to laugh with whoever is talking; impartial to the degree of cleverness implied. They’re laying on the grass at dusk when she makes a remark about the cicada bugs. She is drinking in every minute, looking at her friend sideways ( Read more... )

"She's not good enough for you, Peter. I could make you happier ( Read more... )

Catherine coloured, and said, "I was not thinking of anything ( Read more... )

What's interesting is the pattern the two of them fell into after their first meeting. Sure, everything was new and unfamiliar the night she had sat on his bed, watching him try on an oversized coat. He leaned over her nervously and asked her what music she liked and she answered carefully, but with amusement ( Read more... )

I love waking up with Liz, her small body curled into mine. My shutters are usually half open but the morning sunlight pierces through them and I can't help but indulge in lying there for a good ten minutes. I always have coffee waiting for me, I always have the assurance of good conversation.

"They had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the commonest civility required. Once so much to each other! Now nothing! There had been a time they would have found it most difficult to cease to speak to one another. ... There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, ( Read more... )

I was reading my diary that I kept around this time last year, each paragraph completely unrelated to the next. I usually jumped from one vapid thought to another; subjects I wouldn't reveal to even my most patient listener. Mostly I wrote about whichever guy demanded my attention for that particular instant - only to be slammed back by whatever ( Read more... )

There is a man in front of a woman in line. He is pacing back and forth with a kind of nervous energy that is making her visibly grimace. He stops suddenly and turns to her and asks if she would like to go ahead of him ( Read more... )

He is standing on alternately colored tiles, his fingers secured in the loops of his jeans. He’s speaking with clarity, as though the sound of his voice is something of a comfort. His name is Derek and I know this because he’s frequently addressed by patrons in the small café I now sit in. I also know that he goes to a University, that he’s been ( Read more... )