Apartments, even whole houses, are replaceable. So you can move from one city to the next with little apparent effect: the events that happened there and our reactions to them are what mattered.
It was the barest glimmer of gold. Barely a speck. I took the empty cup and dug into the coarse sand, trying to recapture that gleam.
I don't know about you, but my mind can drift into fertile territory on long nighttime drives.
The argument was the supreme form of discourse between Josh and John. They'd come to our gatherings prepared with topics, rebuttals, and reinforcing evidence. You had to do very little to get them going. Ask about the limits of copyright in the United States, and they'd roll on for hours
Arthur was an unsuccessful writer of dramatic tales. His plotlines involved so much obfuscation that you needed a guide to wade through the story.
John believed in fleecing, not taking fleece, and hide from his "customers."
Where there is a summer visitor, there is a summer visitor industry.
To quote the old Mickey and Sylvia song, "Love is strange." There is no ordinary on that carousel, and sometimes you need to jump off before the music ends. That's how it was for one summer entanglement that I had in Boston.
OK. This is it. Yesterday fellow blogger Mason Bushell, and I discussed writing stories about throwing verbal bombs. If you are out there pardner come on out and meet me in the street... I'm calling' ya out! Reach for that keyboard!
The glow from a candle in the window was the only thing marking the cabin as occupied