sickhypnotic
Her laughter hung in the air like dandelion spores on a warm summer breeze. Hair, the color of sunflowers, seemed to float in the grass around her. A summer goddess, the mother Earth--I was in love.
"Is it whom or who?"
"Well, what's the context?" Alexa responded, picking at the dirt underneath her fingernails.
"Uh.. To whom it may concern?"
"Sure. Sounds good. Just send the thing already."
Lucas looked up at her, unsure if she was joking or not. Her constant monotone made it difficult to tell. "Should we really be emailing a bomb threat?"
My sophomore year of college, I became a Buddhist. I understand how cliche that sounds. But you have to understand--I was lost and looking for a place where I belonged. Wandering around the city one day, I came across what I later found out was a Buddhist temple. There was a public courtyard behind it, surrounded by pear trees. Benches and picnic tables were dispersed throughout. I fell in love with being there: I started to feel at peace while watching children play tag and old men play chess, mothers gossip and teenagers fall in love. I grew connected to all of them through our shared experience of being.
He pressed the cool plastic into the palm of her hand.
"What is it?" she asked, unable to look for herself because of his firm grip on her wrist.
"Remember the night we spent on the roof? Right after my dad died?"
"Yes."
"When I'm gone, I want you to climb up to that same spot. I want you to listen to it on that old cassette player we bought at the thrift store, and I want you to find Orion's belt. Can you do that for me?"
The lump in her throat kept the words from escaping. Instead, she nodded, lowering her eyes to hide the moisture seeping out.
She hadn't gone to college, despite graduating at the top of her class with honors. She hadn't even applied to any colleges, to be entirely honest. The sad truth was that she was too afraid of failing to ever even bother trying. Working at the local factory in her rural hometown had never been the plan, but it seemed safe. That's what everyone did after high school around here--they went to work at the factory, they stopped by the gas station for a slice of pizza on the way home, and they all went to the same bars with the same people every weekend.
He pushed the bike along the pavement, checking the scrap of paper in his hand for the umpteenth time. The house number read 208, but the buildings told a different story. 207 and 209 touched each other, with nothing in between but a rusted dumpster.
Waves hit the shoreline one after another, but she didn't bother watching, not anymore. Laying on the beach used to be her favorite past time; getting drunk, playing in the surf, making love in the sand. But ever since Tim left, none of it was the same to her.
I just wrote a poem about geometric shapes being imprinted in the human subconscious today, so this is a pleasant surprise. Geometric lovers. SHE GETS DRESSED UP LIKE A PILLOW, SO SHE'S ALWAYS IN BED~ FLOWERS FOR THE SICK AND DEAD. Dr. Dog, dudes.
The uppermost canopy floated like green clouds, leaves dancing silently in a warm breeze. Birds of every color and size--red, purple, blue, green, yellow--sang together, a harmony set to the late August sunset.
You slapped me across the face. What a rude awakening for a sixteen year old girl, young and "in love." When you pushed me out of the car, I thought that was it. But you left me there. You left me, alone, past midnight on the side of a dark country road. You stole everything I ever had. Looking back on it, our break up was almost cinematic. But at the time? At the time, it was only cruel, and tragic.
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