rboyle
And if he could keep one memory of her, one constant thought he lived out on repeat for the rest of his days, it would be this: her pajamas rolled over at the waste, and a shirt, his shirt, too big for her, sagging off of her shoulders and tied in a poofy knot above the creamy slice of her naval. Her lips curled up in a smile, the white points of her crystal teeth shining in the day glow of morning. Her front door opened, as he left and looked her over, and into her smile he stared for a moment and he paused because in his mind he thought of never leaving.
We are all hanging by a thread, tunneling deep down into the rich soil of the earth. The light above grows faint, like the pulsing of a distant star and we trickle closer, further down into nothing at all.
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