He picked up his pen and began to write this story: _____________________________________________________... | | He picked up his pen and began to write this story: | _____________________________________________________... | | | | He picked up his pen and began to write this story: | | _____________________________________________________... | | | | | | He picked up his pen and began to write this story: | | | ______________...
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Remy saw the back of the man’s head. He saw him put his cell phone away, take the blowgun out and get ready to use it. Remy fired and the man dropped to the ground. Firing-first-and-asking-questions-later. That had always been Remy’s bad habit. Was it because he was bipolar? Remy thought about what had brought him here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Remy Smith figured he had to be the loneliest person on e...
The plane burns a smoggy path onto the runway, and Paul shakes the hands of the flight crew. They have a strange look to them as if they know what is about to happen. His arms occupied, down an endless corridor, a casual bump that seems as innocent as a hiccup requires some adjustment to his balance. An edgy crawl through security as he feels a weary daze drift over him. A pretty girl averts his gaze and behind, a presence like a wisp of hair out of place. He continues, walking more q...
A new-fallen snow. The painful silence of an anechoic chamber it sponges up the sounds of the city, save one. The haunting whistle of the two o'clock train. Sounding off more often now. Last week that train killed a man. It beat the Afghani refugee in a race. Delivering pizza up the hill. A judgement. I distanced myself from that pain. But. That was his second job. And, his wife, seven children will never forget. While the city below my escarpment view seems to take it all in stride. A th...