seaquitsong
i was driving and the lights blurred from my tears. i didn't car what was a tail light and what was a headlight. i didn't care. i bent my head and started to cry. then there was a blare of a horn, louder than i'd ever heard, a horrid twisting of metal, and i was thrown from my seat, through the windshield to soar through the night air.
it was snowing again. and there was absolutely no chance of me getting out of bed. i was eternally bound to these blankets and pillows. this was my cocoon. i would only emerge in the spring as a graceful, beautiful new person. a butterfly. maybe, if i didn't have a 6 a/m/ class and a long-overdue shower to take.
he rubbed his finger over his temple again. what was it? he knew he had rushed into this room for something, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. it was pressing on him so hard now, on the edge of his memory. then, the smell of smoke met his nose. OH! that's right. fire extinguisher.
my dad rented a cricket and roach infested house a couple years after the divorce. it was crude and none of the furniture matched. my three sisters and i had the master bedroom and my dad stayed quietly at the back end of the house, in the smallest bedroom on his laptop whenever we visited.
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