Pumpkin WifePeter loved pumpkins. He reveled in the squash: the texture, the taste, the smell. Halloween was the time that they were revered, worshiped, receiving the attention he believed they deserved. It was the time when they were everywhere and he relished those moments. To him pumpkins were perfection come to existence."Peter, do you love me?"Her voice strained to overcome the chattering of other couples as they walked through the field."No, why would you ask that?" Peter bent down and picked up a pumpkin, his eyes fixated on it."It's just that we've--we've been together for a while now. And I-I thought that maybe you'd fallen in love with me?""It's been two months," he said setting the pumpkin down in its former place."But we're basically living together, you can't tell me that doesn't mean something.""So what, it's easier for you to stay with me. Right?""Maybe, but--you really don't love me?"Peter's gaze ventured from the pumpkins to her, he scrunched up his nose at the word 'love
The TransferIn recovery after the transfer, surgeons assured me I was alone. Six hours later, the anesthesia is wearing off...and there's something slithering beneath my new skin.
PoltercatI always considered myself a person of reason, and of course, at the time I had reasoned that the boxed cat on the passenger's seat of my automobile couldn't possibly be the one I had run over.It was a common breed, with a common coat. Statistically speaking, the identical hanger on the identical collar could have been a freak occurrence, though wholly explainable by chance, given enough cats with non-matching accessories being run over on a global scale on a daily basis.Coming home, I had just enough time to unbox the animal and reach for the telephone, before I learned that my great-aunt had died in hospital, and I realised that my 'guest' was now promoted to heirloom and my official property.-”Auntie's dead,” I told the scraggy thing. It blinked, once and slowly. 'I know' it seemed to imply, somehow smugly.And that was that – for that day.**I woke up to the smell of coffee – an unfamiliar thing, given my bachelor's life. The brew sat
Dearest, ListenListen to me, dearest. I know you can't hear my voice, but my words will be spider's silk and candlelight, and if I whisper them long enough in your ear I know you must one day believe them.Listen, dearest: I am always with you. You need never fear darkness or loneliness or despair. I am with you, heart and soul. I know you can see me only in your dreams, but I am always at your side. I am always watching over you.Dearest, I will never leave you.I will drive out your nightmares and kiss away your tears. Nothing will lurk behind the veil of night to claw at you in your sleep, for I will forever be your shield. I will comfort you when nothing else can.Listen, dearest – listen. Listen to my gossamer voice, and know that I am with you. Know that I will never, never leave you.But it is lonely, always watching you unseen, always whispering to you unheard. It is lonely, touching your hair but never feeling.It is lonely, and it is cold.Listen – don't you wish you could see m
Eyes Like Gift HorsesLoud clacking as my train rounds the curve. The view of the city shakes. Reading the ad for "Poor Little Rich Girls" raises a lump in my throat. My train roars as highrises take over the windows. The woman on my right slides her arm into my lap. I lift her wrist with my index finger and thumb. I see pores in her whitened skin, cracking at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes look through me, dilated pupils reflecting the fluorescent flicker overhead. She smells old.The recording announces Chicago and Franklin. I hold the doors with my arm, squint inside the car. Nothing of value left behind. My shoe thuds against the wooden platform. Creaking all the way down the stairs.Three blocks down, there's a store with my favorite wine. I step around a reclined man. He is looking straight past me into the sun, which is overcooking this city. It was overcast, before. I have my umbrella under one arm. I wish something would wash away the stench. I throw a quarter at the coffee cup lying on the pav
Mass DebateMass debate:"Microscopic problem?""Global solution?"
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