AdriTheDreamer
Knock on the neck, shake, and somehow the cork released itself.
It was a festive, or probably celebratory, event. The mood was high. Alcohol seemed the best way to push it the furthest. The air was elated and drunk until the sun rose again.
Jackson sobbed as he sat on the couch. He had lost his wallet. He did end up reporting his cards lost and getting new one issued, but the cash inside the wallet was probably lost forever.
"It is not the end of the world," his friend told him, "and bear with me, but I have to say that, don't cry over spilled milk. It has happened and you should either fix it, or move on."
Ships do not just shelter here. This is where they all somehow want to go. And people on-board or off-board, shuffling around. The faces do not repeat, but the action always do. This little harbour has seen it all.
"She was kind. And has the heart to give a helping hand to anyone in need. She could look at someone and provide them with an unsounded assurance.
"She deserves my words. She deserves our applause." The host concluded as claps of praise rose from the audience.
He tried to open his mouth and speak up, but he could not make up the courage.
He only watched, as the one he cared the most looked up him incredulously, sometimes away, and not hiding their mild disgust.
He watched as their trust fade away. He really wanted to -- but he just could not. Neither did he knew how to expect their reaction, nor did he have any plans to what would come next.
It was when the temperature changed, the weather became sometime fierce, that we could finally register that the season was changing.
A certain time of the year, and the cycle keeps on going. The leaves fell, the freezing wind, the humidity, and then the leaves are blooming on the trees again. Almost the same. Almost.
Maybe the season cycles back. But our feelings often does not.
She hiked on the trail, slowly ascending to the peak.
There was a tiny lookout, paved with cement on the floor, and a simplistic shelter.
She leaned on the guardrails. And she let the entire cityscape enter her eyes. Not a bird-eye angle, but this view was gorgeous.
Henry walked in a dark corridor. It was seemingly endless, and the lights were dim enough that required him to sometimes squint.
He could not decide on which way to go. There were so many doors, but he did not want to face the scenery behind.
He may have missed a lot. But he wanted no risk. So, there was no outcome.
She held up her handheld lamp and stepped out of her house. Perhaps it was the evening rush hour; but the neighbourhood street was eerily quiet, and the streetlights were not lit.
The only source of light was hang below her right hand.
She peeked around. And tried to see further.
There were some brightness from afar. Maybe it was just a power outage.
Even after she graduated, she stayed in this college town. There was not much craze compared to the countryside, nor thrill like the metropolis. All she did was something simple things. Things that reminded her of her youth. Things that she dwelled on.
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