January 2011
45 posts
December 2010
80 posts
“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your...”
– Franz Kafka (via commanderspock)
“Here, sit on the bed with me,” Emily said. She took his hand and they perched on the foot of his bed together. “I’ll tell you a story.”
“Alright,” Michael whispered. “What about?”
“Um, about the first time I ever saw you. Ever really saw you, I mean.” She smiled at him. “It was about two years ago. Do you remember how, after you joined The Gang…do you remember how I avoided you?”
“Of...
Nothing happened that night. No clothes were removed, aside from four separate shoes dropped heavily to the floor one at a time. They lay side-by-side for hours, quietly touching or whispering in the dark, sometimes so low the other couldn’t even hear the words but loving anyway the sound of the whisper. When she finally, reluctantly, prepared to go back down the fire escape, they parted with...