I stalk past a warehouse that I wish were mine, and hum the chorus of "Richard Cory". My long leather trenchcoat billows behind me; my frizzy silver mane is a flag to match it. The shadow I cast in the waning autumn afternoon would suggest invincibility to a casual observer
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Comments 22
-Alexandra
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I had a lot of memories and metaphors influencing me on this one. While it started out with ticking clocks and their gears and inner workings in my first draft, suddenly the shadows started asking to be heard instead.
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There's certainly a lot more involved in my own story, and there's more than one tale of Captain in my memory that are yet to be told.
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The stench was really from firestone. ;)
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