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"Can I - uh." He holds his breath for a minute like always. I know what this means, he's gonna ask me something really serious. He inhales, holds it,  and then blows it out after shrugging to get the tension out. I know what's coming... and this is gonna suck.(more)

To wish, to dream. To entertain the return of a daily routine, 9-5. Sometimes 8-6. Regardless, an immense improvement upon current situations.
"I love you." He says as their lips part. Eyes closed, his forehead resting against hers. His arms behind her head, his elbows supporting his frame. Her hands playing with the short hairs on the back of his head. Legs tangled. They pause.
"Pass me the frying pan?" She casually says over her bare shoulder. The slender girl standing at the kitchen sink, nothing but a towel wrapped about her torso, falling just below the curves of her buttocks. Her auburn hair tied up on her head in a small bun. (more)
You enter a coffee shop because you have a little time to kill before your recreational hockey game. You walk in and grab a hot americano and settle into a soft plush chair. Staring at your cell phone hoping it'll do something interesting. Nada.  
You look up and notice(more)
"Really girl?" The disbelief, bordering on disappointment dripping from her tone. Her hazel eyes wide.
" Yeah Em. The Internet. It's not as weird as you're acting it is." Leslie fires back over their steaming lattes. Her voice laced with laughter.  "What's wrong with it?"
"He could be some gia(more)
The wall clock chimes 7.
He's in the process of getting dressed quietly, doing his best to maintain the silence. The only sound in the room is the shuffling of his shirt and the rhythmic sound of even breathing coming from the woman on the bed.
She stirs, a(more)
There is no safety in achieving the ideal resolution with regards to detective literature.

With any good detective fiction, for the reader to acknowledge any sense of victory in the end is to fail as the writer. If the case is solved, all guilty parties locked up an(more)
'Oh for fuck's sake! A spiral horn!? What spiral horn? What's a spiral horn have to do with anythin' Mason?' Interrupted the portly, red faced Detective Sergeant.  

'Walt, not just any spiral horn. THE spiral horn, worth thousands.' Gesturing with both palms facing up and away from his(more)
Empty and incomplete.

A house on a piece of land. Planting trees and making memories.

An unfinished crib in the corner of a nursery in progress now condemned, mirroring his heartbreak. The emptiness in the pit of his stomach. An endless pit who's only sustenance is fr(more)

The candle atop the bedside table while stable in place gives no illusions to it's inconsistent nature. The combustion resulting in luminescence, so stressed by the each manipulation, each breath of air around it. It doesn't discriminate. Adhering only to it's wick, emuls(more)
It's Saturday, now four in the morning and Eddy can't sleep. He lays on the left side of the bed, on his back. His left arm tucked behind his head, and his right on his bare chest. The bed sheets pulled away and to the right of him, he(more)
I want to write in the 'I have a friend' trig but I'm getting all feelsy.

The sentences don't feel right, like they don't have the emotional depth I want to share. About a friend who keeps me grounded. Tells it like it is and doesn't mince words(more)
The science is sound.
There's no reason for the temperature to be scaling so quickly. The panel screaming warnings and caution at its occupants. That doesn't stop the craft from burning up on re-entry. A decimal missed, a panel slightly weaker. No reason is given.

Just static fro(more)
Hands intertwined.
Never in the same position twice. They dance between fingers, darting and dodging and never holding. Caressing calloused joints and soft knuckles. Sharing their emotions without word through an intimate salsa of digits and palms.
Strong hands used to manipulate delicate fingers. They move in con(more)