har1
It's a phase to write this phrase in these crazed and hazy ways.
Cheek to jowl they sat on the creaking bus, bumping over half-paved roads that wound tightly around the mountains rising, almost violently, from the rivers below.
The mist was rolling in across the lake. Sounds from across the water grew muffled, and then silent. Had the fishermen gone home? Did the laketop cloud cover their chatter? Or were they too silenced by the awesome serenity of the afternoon?
He stood at attention as the coffin was carried by, draped with the flag. He cleared his mind of thoughts, memories, images of that day. The sun was bright. The crowd was silent.
"Five, four, three, two, one: BLAST OFF! Another rocketship run!"
(Stage directions: Sung at top voice by a three year old, every morning. Coreography includes jumping with hands thrown in the air at the end of the countdown, then looking over the shoulder to ensure younger brother has followed suit.)
Such an absolute delight to see you this weekend, my darling. And don't worry for a minute about the extra weight -- it suits you! And I haven't been able to stop talking about your darling new haircut. I've always gone to the City for my hair, but I'm sure lots of the girls at the club go to SuperCuts. It looks like a simply delightful little place.
At 3, she's a sponge for knowledge, soaking up what she sees and hears around her. At times, I want to shield her ears -- "Don't listen to that!" -- but I don't. She'll learn to negotiate the world, good and bad, loving and bigoted, brilliant and idiotic, true and so very, very false.
When I got the sandwich, it came with a bag of kettle chips and a pickle. Sure, I could have turned down the chips and maintained my health-food kick, but what fun is that?
His whiskey breath stank of a broken heart, lonely nights and a handful of other overused country-music cliches.
How do I escape from this place? No hatch door in the ceiling... No ladder from the window... No disappearing act possible... I sit down, quietly, and begin to think.
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