fivealarm
I try not to. My head being so addled, the meats within shaken into paste, I can't, as a matter of fact. What were we talking about again? Who are you? Whose pants are these?
I am tempted to allow myself to completely break down into atoms. There is an animal draw to let order fall to pieces. Mayhem sounds delicious. Then I think of the hangover. Consequences get the better of me.
I have only ever gone to a single barber in my entire life. He is not a good barber, at least so I'm told, but I would go there with my father when I was a kid, and then when I was a young man, and briefly, before he died, when I might call myself reasonably a man. Why are these habits meaningful and worth keeping to? It's just hair.
Flames on the grass, leaping into the air, cascading down with a polyurethane parachute. The engines reminded me of rolls of quarters, it was all clandestine, the way that the launchpad looked like something you'd cook crack on.
Pleasing hormones trickled through the skin of my arms. A nearly audible *click* rang in my mind. My stomach settled. I wanted to jump, and proclaim my victory.
Rarely is anything truly solved. A solution tends to invite new formulae, new problems, new dilemmas which we demand our full energy to deal with. A solution is thus often the problem.
The finger joint protruded a grizzly white against the soot where it lay. For an instant, hesitation swept over Detective Skidmore, but nevertheless, he plucked it up with his gloved hand. This was it.