Journalist. Hoosier. Bad Buddhist.
If I can make a person laugh and swear, it's a good day.
The scrape woke her. The sound of metals brushing, no matter how soft or how slow, always produced a clang and that clang jolted Em from her dreamless sleep each and every time. Her neck creaked as her head turned to survey the damage of her touch.
By A.D. Beam3 years ago in Fiction
A forever exists between two words. The thinking. The worrying. Over zaps of electricity traveling through infinite space that somehow emerge as ideas.
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