Telescopic sight_Follower_Neuropathic Pain_Frosty Friday
Catalog Guide:
Telescopic sight
-violent themes- Robert worried he could never really know what someone else was going to do. How can he know their intent, know their heart? He was a spotter for a sniper team. His role is to see people, to know whether they mean harm to the soldiers and facilities he watches over. He views someone's actions, and he makes assumptions. What if he misses something? Robert joinwww.onedoor.cced the Army to make the world a better place. He saw the world in black and white, good or bad. That he ended up as part of an Army sniper team was because of his best friend, and crack shot, Ace.Ace was supposed to ...
Follower
I think it was in the fall—a particularly warm one, do I remember rightly—when I began gathering my followers. And to hold a following, it is of very great use to once in a while recall or have a holistic understanding of how it happened, why it happened, and in some cases, when it happened. What should I gain from this approach, a look again at the terminus a quo, a trudge through the woods of the past, back to the slippery mud of X? Where it all began... or where it all ended up. Is there, dare I ask, a difference? I see it to be a meditative exercise, much like the nemophilist does to go ba...
Neuropathic Pain
A kitten in a basket. News there was a murder in the next town over. An advert for weight loss. Some influencer looking happy eating salad. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Where. Was. The dopamine?“Why are you always on your phone? You’re going to hurt your eyes.” Mother said, teasingly, swishing past me in her soft pink blouse. I felt her words stab me in the back of the head. I put my phone into my jeans pocket, shrugging. She turned her from me, her dyed hair falling purposefully from a styled bun, and asked me if the laundry was out yet. It wasn’t. She continued looking out of the window, holding ...
Frosty Friday
It was seven PM in the evening. It was damp and dreary with a slight hint of a chill in the air. Strolling into his favorite local eatery a somewhat upscale steakhouse, Frank’s Lounge and Bar situated on the shores of the marina, Remington requested of the hostess to be seated at the booth in the corner away from the maddening crowd so he could console himself in self pity after a horrible week ending as he said to himself a frosty Friday. A single man being porced now for five years and seven months with no kids, he was a ‘Lone Watie’¹ in the world. Not only had he been asked to leave...