She walked along ahead of me. Her shoes dangled from her finger tips as she flowed across the grass...

She struggled to walk. There wasn't anything physically wrong with her, but her mind was unwilling...

I tried to forget her, but found myself going to places we used to frequent, eating foods she liked, and listening to her favorite songs...

A short story of him and her, alternating sections between them as I'm apt to do.

Random observations of my neighborhood

A short story about a man trying to relax with his thoughts along a busy path.

I occasionally can write long winded emails to friends, particularly if they reply in kind in a timely manner. Awhile back the thought struck me that I could be played like a fiddle as a result.

I sat on the couch, feeling unwell. Apparently it's possible to drink too much. Who knew?...

A brief short story about a walk along a wooded path.

I thought I saw you standing over a still form. Twilight blurred the shadows between day and night...

I stared at the empty page before me. An idle cursor blinked periodically. I wondered where the mouse pointer was and gently shook the device. It was out of the way. I thought about typing...

A brisk wind crossed my path and blew my hair across my face. I kept walking on, my little face shield protecting me from the elements even while they blinded me. I hummed a nonsensical tune at low volume. The clouds were impressive, but unimpressed with my vocal stylings. The wind instruments outplayed every other one on display. The occasional pelt of rain hit my thin skin of clothing. I didn’t wince because I’m tough.

I want to sing to you. I want to dance with you. I dream of whispering sweet nothings in your ear as my foot casually steps on your toes...

She sat across from me. Her eyes scanned the menu, recognizing familiar characters while not finding an acceptable recognizable pattern...

I looked at her smile. At first it seemed resolute and unmoving, but slowly it began to unbend and fade into a stoic straight line. My gaze inevitably picked itself up and delved into her eyes. Light sparkled on greens, browns, and a hint of blue. Darkness surrounded them, but I was at a loss as to whether it was artifice or purely natural. Her brows held steady. Her hair was up slightly, but fell partly over her face as if done in a rush.

The music kept rising. His heart swelled, his spirit soared, and he stood up and turned off the lights. He sat down and stared at the screen in front of him, enjoying the darkened palate he had chosen many moons ago. Letters and numbers reached out to him in their simple moments of brightness. The song ended and moved on to a plodding track that seemed to rock back and forth on its steady baseline and simple percussion.

He wanted to say, “I love you.” Instead he saw sadness in her eyes and watched her figure slowly fade from view. He stood still, not hearing or seeing anything. Slowly his surroundings made their way back into his consciousness. The daily hum of traffic in the street and the loosely overheard conversations of people walking and talking on their mobile phones. Occasionally one human interacting directly with another human even occurred.

She leaned over her drink, staring at the depths of whiskey and ice entwined in a dance to death. She gave the glass a sudden swirl, grimacing at the resounding clink. Her eyes remained focused on the ice as it revolved and eventually resolved into a stable position. The whiskey remained mostly unharmed, if a little cooler and slightly diluted...

I'm not sure what I saw. She sat across from me, toying with the cup of coffee in front of her. Empty bags of sugar and mini-cartons of cream lay nearby in tatters, shadows of their former selves. A spoiled spoon lay nearby, spilling remnants of coffee and cream on the parchment of the ad-splattered table cover. Her eyes were focused below, but on nothing. The theme song of her mind purred along without interruption.

It was near morning and I was someplace between being awake and sleep. My eyes were closed and my breath was slow, but I was aware of my thoughts. A poem escaped my lips, words forming of their own accord. The cadence and rhythm worked well together in my ear. The lines lengthened and flowed together. Soon I grew worried that it was veering from insight and depth into tackiness, but at its close I brought it back into the fold.

The fire sparkled and crackled in the deep darkness of the night, a beacon summoning memories of the long lost twilight. He stared at the blaze. He was utterly transfixed. His mind was blank, yet his expression a mix of thoughtfulness, restfulness, and an unbridled eagerness. He had no action in mind and no thoughts of changing the world, but he looked like a coiled spring about to be loosed upon the world.

She mumbled something in her sleep and adjusted herself slightly. Her head rested against his shoulder. Her breath had a slow and steady rhythm. He carefully turned the page of the book he was reading. The album he had been listening to had ended at least a half hour ago, but he resisted the urge to put on a new one. He looked over at her and then back to his book.

I stepped into the car and sat behind the wheel. The moon glowed somewhere in the night sky, and I wondered where I was going. I slowly placed the key in the ignition and started the car up. I turned up the radio as it started on yet another mix tape I had made earlier in the week. It was cold out so I let the car warm up for a bit.

He looked out the window and saw the distant shape of a mountain. It was dark and gray; rain was falling all around. He closed his eyes and pictured himself looking at his house from on top of the mountain. He laughed to himself and shuffled away from the view. The television stumbled to life and he melted into the couch. The rain had settled into a comfortable groove. The staccato pitter patter pelted the roof of his abode, occasionally knocking a tipping tap upon his windows.

A coffee mug is settled on my desk. It is mostly empty, except for a tea bag and tea-like liquid, both uncomfortably on the closer end of room temperature. The tea bag actually contains no tea leaves; it's nothing but random herbs thrown together with the aim of providing taste and no caffeine. I'm living a lie. A non-tea tea from a coffee cup. There's something wrong with me. I even bought a Mac just so I could install Windows on it.

There was something about the way she looked at me. That is, when she thought to look at me at all. I hate thinking about her. I know to my bones that she rarely, if ever, thinks of me anymore. Why do I torture myself so? There was something about the way she looked at me. I could be quite clever, charming, and dashing, but never any of those things around her.

(Perhaps a part II of Walk) Trains rumble by; sometimes slowly, other times with enough momentum to force a blast of air in their wake. I stand on the platform watching the world. There are a smattering of people in my vicinity. Some are alone staring off into space while others are reading or listening to their music players. Some, the gods help them, are talking loudly on their phones while they are also reading and listening to their music players and commenting on all of the other idiots surrounding them.

I’m not sure where I am. The sun is floating above the horizon; it seems unsure whether it should rise or fall. I feel a wind pass through. It neither knows nor cares where it is going. I’m along the bank of a river. The water flows inexorably in one direction, yet still it is impacted by tidal forces brought about by the moon. I think I should start walking. There’s no one else around.

He pulled up to the traffic leaning in front of him and came to a stop. His gaze wandered in circles; his mind was stuck in a purple haze. He twisted the dial gently to soften the radio’s command of the local air supply. His eyes traveled and eventually settled on her. She couldn’t see him; a reflection of a reflection in time. She was talking to herself, or maybe the radio or perhaps a stranger on the phone.

So it started; I looked at my watch to tell the time to my mind. It was past midnight, but to me it was still the day before. Until my head hit my pillow and conscious thought flowed anew, today could not yet be tomorrow. Yet when I moved to settle into bed, what thoughts would invade my head? Would my mind wander and fade into a dream, or would my heart begin to ache at what my semi-conscious state could see?

I walked down the hallway and was met by a pair of eyes. Unfortunately for me, they were not followed by a smile...

My footfalls echo in the cool night air. There are stars above fighting for sky time with some unseemly looking clouds. A wind whips me in a frenzy, telling me to move on. Instead the air enters my lungs and I consume it readily. Each passing step places me closer to my destination, whatever it may be. I don't know what was said, but I know that words were spoken. The look in her eyes betrayed the fact that something had occurred.

The story is an old one; my story is a new one. I can't see her face, but I can picture her voice. She tells me… things. I can't place her and I cannot touch her from where I sit. I would stand, but I am firmly entrenched in my current situation. Or so I tell myself. In order to escape the clutches of a “heavenly” body's gravitational field, a projectile must reach the aptly named escape velocity.