Red Dot
Mirror. Signal. Breathe.
Mirror. Signal. Breathe.
Vanilla musk. She never changes.
“Why are you late?”
‘Tonight will be perfect’, she thought, snipping an errant shoot and placing the bonsai tree on the table’s centre.
Lucy trembled…
Two guys walk into a bar; the third one ducks.
“I’d love to, babe, but my phone’s just about out of juice!
The white line on the highway blurred and steadied.
Let’s get the moral of the story up front, shall we?
I can’t find the time to write.
Doug leans back in his Lazyboy and stretches his arms over his head with laced fingers.
I relish the fine minutia of perfection.