fibee
His love for his country simmered like a boiling pot of potatoes. Seemingly quiet and calm but all of a sudden overflowing, loud and messy when a national sporting win was announced.
The web shimmered as a gentle wind passed. Translucent. Wondrous. A feat of engineering even in human terms. Yet she couldn't stand what it represented. Somewhere, near, was the eight-legged engineer. A quick swipe with the long-handled broom, erased her fear.
He hovered outside the entrance. His father had always tried to instill a love of mechanics in his only son. But it never took hold. Now, here he was, outside his sister's garage. An oil change was all that was needed.
The space between here, where I am and there, where he is. Not far in measurable distance, but far in time spent wasted. Too far. No longer able to bridge that time span with general niceties. Too far; seeming infinity.
I placed my breakfast bowl down on the dew covered table, attracted to the chill air that would no doubt precede a sweltering hot day.
The chain hung loosely around his large, fur-matted neck, as he blindly pulled the links through his fingers.
The right side was the most alluring. Offering hints of purity, freshness, youth. That was the side I would always proffer. Not the left. After the accident, the left side was marred. Scarred and hideous. That side - the left - was what I hid.
Half the time I feel half asleep, yet the other half of the time I don't feel wide awake. How does that figure? The other half of the time, I have a feeling of being in limbo... Phased out.... Waiting for something or other. I should probably extend that first sentence then. All of the time I feel half asleep.
The key was large, slightly tarnished and had an ornate spiral cut into it's head. Cold to the touch, yet spreading a warm glow in her heart.
Gum. Chewing gum sometimes makes one look like a mug. Check it out - mug is gum backwards. Who knew? Don't be a mug with gum.