Tag: Sunday Scribblings
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You Are Here
Everything was white. I couldn’t tell where the floor ended and where the ceiling began. If there was a ceiling. I had yet to encounter a wall. Or chair. Or another person. Or a speck of dirt. Everything was white, glowing white. Except for me. I’m still in the clothes I left for work in.
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The Call
He watched his roommate pace back and forth for hours. Each time he passed the phone, he would linger for the briefest of moments. Unusually bright eyes caressed each curve and dirt stained buttons. He had tried to get his roommate to sit down, to be distracted by the routine they had built up together.
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Sunday Scribblings #287: “Present”
As a child, I had rich Christmases. Each year the gifts were more elaborate and more expensive than the year before. Games and dolls and toys and gadgets to keep me occupied. But I never got what I really wanted. I saw them all as flashy noisy bribery to keep me out of the way.
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Plan B
The roses. The ribbons. The baby’s breath intertwined. The platters. The goblets. The special bottle of wine. The tablecloth. The napkins. The inked and handwritten cards. All strewn about the floor amidst clumps of broken shards.
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Easy
The crumbs are hardening on the plate. I’m actually watching the moist smears harden.
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One Sunday Afternoon
What silliness. Are you ill? Perhaps you’ve caught a cold, or one of those roving illnesses that sweep through the city from time to time. Look at you. You worry me.
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Tomorrow
“When will it open?”, asked the son. “Tomorrow.”, replied the mother. “But I want it to open today!”, demanded the son. “Not the right time.”, replied the mother. And the son was sent out to play.
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muse
write and do not stop until after the world has ended and has been reborn anew