Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

1_12

He crushed it methodically with his thumb, rubbing it back and forth with his thumb, clock and then counter. The juice spread through the cracks in the wood, staining it a deep red. He looked up at the sky and sighed, his thumb cooling in the breeze, blood evaporating.

He saw another. Crush.

3 comments:

  1. I don't know if mildly frustrating ambiguity is what you were going for, but what is the "it" he's crushing?

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  2. >_<

    On the first day of classes, I was sitting next to a friend in the hallway and got distracted by a ladybug trying to make its way across the floor. Classes let out, and people stampeded the halls, and the poor ladybug barely avoided being squashed several times. It survived the rush, which made me happy.

    Then, a friend walked up, and I was glad to see him, only to watch in horror as he squished the ladybug, making a tiny piece of me die inside.

    Meaningless?

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