2010-11-13
uno
even thinking about this scene is making me a little anxious, but i suppose i've got to crack this shell at some point and let the rot ooze out. maybe it'll be sweet.
My right index finger clicked the track pad and I leaned back against the couch, listening to the crackle and hiss of a needle gliding over wobbling vinyl. The air hung thick and sweet: still despite the open windows and distant crashing of waves that seemed to suggest movement where there was none. I breathed in the salty air and it came out back out in shakes, my heart rattling around like a bee in a jar. We sat back on the tiny loveseat, bare legs glued to the ripped vinyl, with our wrists nearly touching and the lights turned off. I could feel the love radiating from my swollen heart.
tinteardrop at 11:39 p.m.