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knock

There was a knock on the door. When I heard it I jolted up from my position on the couch. How long had I been asleep for? It could not be 7:00. There was no way it was time for him to be there. The knock sounded again; panicked I scrambled off to open the door. To my relief it was not Bradley.

trap

You liar. I can't believe I fell straight into your trap. Why didn't I see this coming? That grin, the devilish look in your eye. It should have been so obvious. I should have avoided you but no, I fell fast and hard. Now I'm swimming in your deceptions. I can hardly keep my head above the waves of humiliation. I'm gasping for breath, Waiting for a way out of this.

Only a minute left on the clock. Her blood was racing through her veins and her breath was coming out in shallow gasps as she pushed herself to continue running. She couldn't stop. She had to make it to the gate. This was her last chance to say goodbye.

Compassion is perhaps the most difficult kind of passion to have towards one another, especially when we have done one another wrong.

The setting that afternoon was bleak and cold. A stark contrast to the girl standing against it, with her red hair and bright green eyes. She was full of life and excited to be graduating! It was odd that someone so merry would request to have her picture taken on such a gloomy day.

I was warned this would happen. Love. Bah! I told them, "Not to me! I've got no interest fooling around in that business!" They all laughed and I couldn't understand why. Now I do. I should've listened to them. They were right. Love doesn't like being scorned for so long. When it is, it'll come back and hit you. Hard.

The morality of this fellow had sunken low after a number of encounters with the usual crooks; bandits, thieves, whores, drunks, liars- you name it he had known them all personally. And when one associates themselves with such a crowd, the good in them takes a heavy beating until one day, they will find the good pummeled out of them by the harsh reality of life. Such was his fate.

Suppose I was to just sit here, sipping my coffee and typing these words. Suppose I had only sixty seconds to write to you everything I could possibly want to say. What would I tell you? I don't really know but I suppose it would be something rather simple, seeing as I likely don't know you. Suppose I say, "Hello."

edge

There's always this edge I find myself standing on at work. Customers that come through for their coffee, they determine whether or not I'm shoved off that edge or pulled to the safety of sanity.

braid

The golden twists and turns in her hair lit up in sun on that crisp, fall day as she ran out to play with her friends in the street. She turned around and waved a gloved hand back at me, her blue scarf covering her grinning mouth. Braiding her hair own hair for the first time made her feel like such a big girl. But I knew, watching her chase after the crunchy leaves twirling in the breeze, that she was still my baby girl.

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writing since 2011 · 11 entries · 11 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Chrystal showed up.

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on this day 15 years ago

Chrystal wrote about suppose
“Suppose I was to just sit here, sipping my coffee and typing these words. Suppose I had only sixty seconds to write to you everything I could possibly want to say. What would I tell you? I don't real…”

the words Chrystal reaches for

hairsupposenowgirlsuneyeswaitingwrongturnsedgestandingcoffeelovehardanotherbreath