As if by magic, some handsome stranger came up to me asking me out and offering me the job that I have always dreamed of having for a salary that could buy me a house made entirely of shoes!

It was so surreal that I thought I was dreaming – because I was.

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Dark and sweet

Black, brown, with steamed milk or without, or maybe an espresso or a frappuccino (what’s the difference between that and cappuccino anyway?) – I’m taking my time weighing options to find the best, the perfect choice, and although I know it’s just house policy, the smile she gives me is the sweetest smile, the very definition of beauty: patiently soothing my insecurity, assuring me that my choice, if and when it comes, will be appreciated, while I’m determined to make the most of this moment, aware that her smile distracts and delays me even more. Amanda was right, I really needed to get out more.

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Cat Sitting

She didn’t like going to her neighbor’s house, 3 doors down, because there were no streetlights with the trees casting a frightening shadow under the moon’s light, and it was always deathly silent on their street, but they had asked her to feed their cats while they were gone for two days, so with trepidation she approached the door, only to hear a sudden, terrifyingly, booming roar, followed by vicious growling, a man’s commanding voice, and bright lights flashing in the bedroom.

After she recovered from her shock, and still clutching her chest where her heart would be if it hadn’t fallen down to her stomach, she remembered that they leave Animal Planet on the television for their cats!

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The Forum

She had thought they were her friends, yet suddenly, when she spoke, it seemed that they all stopped talking, and when she made a comment, they were all suddenly done with the conversation, leaving her hanging out there in nothingness. She hung out less and less, tried to let go, as they clung tenaciously to each other, shutting her further out, never knowing that they were all she really had, for without them, her life was unbearable, and so – wondering if anyone would even notice she was gone – she swallowed the rest of the pills and smiled, knowing that after tonight, she wouldn’t be around for anyone to abuse anymore.

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Bag Lady

Sonya sat there with her filthy face and greasy gray hair, cloaked in a tattered coat, with her grocery cart full of her only worldly possessions next to her, while the city walked by her as if she was invisible or too below them to even take notice of her shivering in the cold.

Opening her jacket pocket she pulled a faded 25 year old news clipping in which she stood posing for the photo dressed in a regal gown, hair perfectly coiffed, face shining and she reread the almost invisible headlines with tears in her eyes, ”Nobel Peace Prize Winner Sonya Johanssen”.

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Faith’s Hand

He rode off into the night, mittens of soft fog closed around them, momentarily brushing across his face and touching the flanks of the horse as if protecting hands were reaching down from above, pushing them safely along on their journey.

It was fitting somehow that the fierce battle earlier in the night between brave William and faithless Lord Drak, had ended with Drak bleeding on the ground, slain under the bright moon with a sword, which had been guided by an unseen but ever present hand, and the conquering champion William now riding off into a mist enshrouded night, traveling by faith alone through the darkness, unscathed.

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The SWOOSH as the ball is collected by the force of the tightly angled clubface is enough to make you sigh with relief. Then watching it fly swiftly through the air, before making a sharp right turn toward the trees is enough to make you cringe.

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the hanged man

The platform snaps open beneath the man’s brown shoes, and in an instant those shoes disappear as his neck pops against the noose, his feet swinging and clapping together. The crowd about August cheers — or perhaps they only give murmurs of approval; the world awaiting death is oft more quiet than that of life.

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She made her away towards the stage, her heart beating like crazy, her legs felt like jelly and her hands just wouldn’t stop shaking. She stood there and stared at all the people staring back at her, then she opened her mouth and sang her song, and everyone was entranced by her voice and the lyrics that she had written.

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I imagine the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore, magnificent and powerful, crashing and waning, crashing and waning, but now the rhythm takes on a melancholy feeling and the desperation creeps back and the crashing waves become a drum beat and the drum beat becomes a heartbeat and I feel panicked and lonely. Damn it!

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