The ink drips from the metal tip, blotting the page. The writer lets his hand drift across the sea of white to put the ink to use. His mind wanders, settling on no particular thought; high from either the open container of ink or the act of thinking itself. He stops his hand, drops the pen, and leans back into his chair, resting his arms on those of the chair. His eyes close as the memory takes hold of every sense in his body..
As a human being, as a person, she's more than anyone could ask for. She's the kind of beautiful that you would think only exists in Disney stories or 90s love songs. She has the kind heart that a young
I hear the front door open, then slam shut just before the lock clicks into place.
I'm alone.
I pull on my sweater, grab my camera, and find some shoes. I turn off every light, and lock everything, aside from the back door. I turn the knob and ease open the door, welcoming the cool breeze. I step out of the doorway and shut the door behind me. I jump the fence and climb up the rocks and onto dirt. And I run.
I take deep breaths of the air even though the expansion hurts my lungs, and I wish my feet would move faster even though my heart is beating erratically,and I look at the sky even though there are only