clarity
In her dream, he wore a priest's garb and a hard topped hat, like the dervishes wore, with cloth hanging down on all sides. He chanted the perimeter of the house in an ancient tongue. She couldn't tell what his intentions were....
Your choice comes due. There is a point when the mulling over whose fault it is becomes useless, like shifting dirt, and one must simply take responsibility, make a choice and be happy with it.
"Higher and higher, won't you come with me? Baby, gonna get my soulfree." George Michael
There were five or six steps between her and her new home in the Pacific Northwest. She would plot them out, one by one.
His movements were gentle, careful not to harm her. His touch soft as a fawn's ear.
Her breath was full of all the power she'd been withholding.
It was unlikely that she was his first. His answer to her invitation was easy, as if he didn't need to mull over it. He was ready to add this tryst to his collection of affairs.
Before you go, will you turn out all the lights and lock the top lock? Thanks.
Her real fear, the thing she was most afraid of, was abandonment. Homelessness lived in her daydreams and she stirred Alone into her oatmeal.
She just did it. She claimed it. Decided she'd do it, then did it. No doubts and no quibbling. She would be successful switching careers. Period.
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writing since 2011 · 74 entries · 71 days shown up
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