In the silence, her mind ruminated on every little detail.
My love always arrived wrapped in silence, wrapped in dust. But that was childhood.
He brought the jasmine to his nose, inhaled its narcotic sweetness, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was true.
I love the texture of your hair and I wanted to tell you about it in far too many words than either you or I are comfortable with.
I stared at the row of pre-peeled and packaged tangerines sealed tightly under plastic wrap.
In that world, ignorance amassed like water near the roots of a cypress tree.
I’d never felt sadder at the prospect of not being a part of someone else’s story.
The wish itself was pretty mediocre and commonplace, a mundane fantasy to escape the mundane.
“Extra ghugni, no chilis,” he confirmed, his cyber-enhanced eyes ever judging.
