Where We Used to Keep the Old Magazines_Open your eyes_Forever in the sea._The Night of the Half Moo
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Where We Used to Keep the Old Magazines
There’s a man sitting in the spot where we used to keep the old magazines.He’s there a quarter to closing with his tie folded neatly on top of a too-tall table that we keep meaning to throw out. His glasses are thick, but they seem to offset his thinning hair. Every article of clothing seems to have been pulled from a mannequin in an academic consignment shop. The rolled-up sleeves indicate that he was planning to go into the deep for the long haul. A stack of Atlantic Monthly’s is nearly as high as he is, and we’re not sure where he got them since we don’t keep the old magazines there anymore...
Open your eyes
I open my eyes. I am readying myself for the morning. A golden cheekbone lined by the rising sun, beautiful in its simplicity. I touch it, once, her skin warm under my fingers, a reminder of how alive we are. How young we are. We are teenagers. Our hands are clumsy, too big for our skinny limbs, not sure where to go or what to think. These hands hold pens, and books, and dreams. We discuss the future in vivid colours, full of blossoming hope of what it could hold. Neither of us say it, our lips tied by the thin string of fear, but our dreams involve each other. Neither of us knows what love me...
Forever in the sea.
The waves lapped the sand. It was a beautiful night. The moon shone on the ocean surface giving it an illuminating glow. It enchanted her. She sat there lost in her own thoughts when something caught her eye. It must’ve been a fish. But after several minutes, it came closer to her. It wasn’t a fish at all. It was the most magnificent creature she’d ever seen. He was built like a supermodel with bulging biceps and rock-hard abs. She must’ve been dreaming. His skin was nearly translucent and blueish but that added to the mystique. His hair was jet black, and the water seemed to caress his muscle...
The Night of the Half Moon
“I blame his grandfather” said Sally Henson, and it sounded more peevish than she had meant it to, but she would have been lying if she’d said she was sorry it did. “And I take it I don’t need to ask which grandfather you mean?” her husband Alec asked, rhetorically. It seemed as if they were going to quarrel, and neither of them wanted it, but neither of them intended going out of their way to avoid it. Sally, who always believed in being fair, said, “Your father is a good man, Alec, and he’s always been kind to me. I like his stories, too. And when Bruce was a little boy, well, that was fine....