Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
If she could just make it through this meeting, she could make it through the morning. Then she’d just need to make it through the afternoon and the drive home. Then, she just had to make it through the party tonight, and the family dinner tomorrow, and the celebrations the day after that. If she could just make it through all those things, she could make it to the end of the week, and get some time for herself.
But first, she had to make it through this meeting.
He said, “If I knew what I was looking for, maybe I could help you. But neither of us know. We’re just hanging on, hoping one of us will find a way.”
Knowing someone was about to die, and not knowing, but having someone die unexpectedly, made little difference to him, he discovered. The death was a loss he felt, regardless of how much the other’s death was anticipated.
Nor did the quantity of tears shed reflect the pain he felt.
I go outside each morning to breath the air, take in the weather, and look around. My wardrobe is bare feet, gym shorts, and a tee shirt.
In today’s moment, accompanied by Quinn the Black Paw and Papi of the Ginger, I said, “It’s not bad out here, guys.” Quinn responded by rolling around on the patio while Papi scanned the perimeter for intruders.
After a few minutes, I returned inside and checked the temp on my small weather system. Thirty-one degrees F.
My winter skin is coming along well.
It’s that time, again, and he was not feeling it. Registering his soul never felt right, but it was required, so that others could bid on it. He feared that this time, someone might name the right price.
They moved and shifted during the night, ending up back to back in bed. Her heel tapped his heel in a gentle rhythm, like a heartbeat, to him. She would awaken a little, resume the heartbeat, and then sleep again, finally stopping for the night when her sleep became deep.
He lay awake for a long time, thinking about the heartbeat, and how it felt, waiting for it to begin again.
Eleven pounds, eyes just opened, she writhed around, trying to look over her shoulders and above her head as if she was trying to take it all in, as if she was filled with energy, and ready to take on the world, and impatient to begin.
Floofsichorean (catfinition) – a cat who likes to dance.
It’s like pole day at Indy out there.
Drivers are trying to cut corners to shave milliseconds off their errands, their mind on their lists as they try to save time while doing the things needed for them to enjoy the holidays.
Has your mind ever skipped a day, so that you think it’s the next day, and you’re trying to do your activities based on the wrong day?
Yeah, that blows, doesn’t it? I never feel properly synchronized when that happens.
Michael Seidel, writer 