jhuerd
I commissioned her to paint me a painting just to talk to her, and just as I had intended, I brought her to my bed. We laid their, in post-coital bliss, and she told me her dreams. She asked me mine, and I smiled, and said I dreamed of another bottle.
"Get on my level," my little brother said to me. "No one else is." I looked at his eyes, glazed over. The muscles had relaxed and he was slightly wall-eyed.
"You need to slow down," I said to him. He shook his head.
"Fuck you."
That was my first strike, the hand on her upper thigh. She looked at me. "Luke, please."
"What, Amy?" I asked. Amy shook her head.
"I don't feel that way about you," she said. "I think we should just be friends."
The night was still, like water on a windless lake. I could see the truck come down the gravel road, framed by the rising moon. I knew it was him. The cat had come around again, and that always was the sign of my uncle's return.
writing since 2014 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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wonderingamyshookheadsatnowforgetnightwaterwindlesslaketruckgravelroadframedrising