Friday, July 12, 2013
2 minutes! Go!
She floated by on whistled tune and windsong. Around her, the city made it's usual blips and burps and smells. She was above it, or something. A forcefield. She wasn't even sweating. He watched her from the safe corner of an outdoor cafe, hoping that she would pass back by. It was respite. It was hope. She was a sanguine promise from the summer heat. He tipped his glass and stood up slowly. She might come back. Might not. Sometimes, you take what you get and don't push your luck.
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I have only been REALLY angry a few times. I didn't like it. I could feel the way it looked. It scared me. It occurred to me the other day that my wife and daughters have never seen me angry. It made me happy. They wouldn't believe it was possible. They didn't know me back when I occasionally got angry or a few times, insanely angry. I don't know if it will happen again. It's nice. Like a trump card. I don't think many people would describe me as an angry person. But I would not want to fuck with me. I'm a little ashamed of that. I like control. But I'm also a little glad to know I could fuck your shit up.ReplyDelete
He handed out orders with largesse and I knew better than to ignore them.ReplyDelete
Sing, he'd say, and before four and a half heartbeats I'd be cantillating in no lesser a fashion than the famed lyre bird. Food, he'd ask, and if the fare did not take three days to gather and one day to cook, it would hardly be considered worthy of his palate.
But such is life in the Cloud Castle. For without acquiescence, I do not have the luxury of having one.