- The phone vibrating on the end table pumps me too full of adrenaline to sleep longer. Grateful and annoyed.
- I pull out the thought slowly, careful not to leave any fragments behind. It emerges as a thick, black, ball of sludge dripping crimson in my fingers. I hand it to him. And suddenly, I can think of it out there rather than living it in here.
- I’m idly ruminating about Christmas. This week-to-week existence makes it simultaneously easier and so much harder to think about the future.
- We walk the aisles, dodging cosplayers and children and forty-year-olds in Naruto shirts, each of us marveling at different wonders, each of us immersed in the pure joy of the day, our cares and charges almost forgotten for a few precious hours.
- Indie vs mainstream. In vs out. Real vs fake.
- Seems I was right about bread triggering my low-grade cold symptoms. Crap. First caffeine, now this?!
- Their minds are so different from ours. Their world is so different.
- “I have a right to wear that shirt,” I say, laughing but serious. I did the time; I feel the love. But if quizzed on minutia, would they strip me of that right?
- Still full at bedtime from four slices at lunch, my body finally satiated after two hollow days.
- Where are those wagon wheels?
