Electrical StormRed. Yellow. A cacophony of noise that fails to shut out the sound of my pounding heart, thrumming in time to my footsteps, the beat of a lively Bossa Nova. Don't look left, don't look left. Damn, said under my breath to no one except possibly God, who chuckles wryly at my inability to control myself. Through, to open doorway. There. Kaleidoscope eyes and hair dark brown - incidentally, the color of those German 70% cocoa chocolate bars that I can never get enough of. A smile so sweet it would dissolve in water. I have to walk on. I can't stop. I have no reason.My world goes black. Midnight draws near. City lights fade in from some dark corner of my memory. I can feel my fingertips on glass that's so cold it burns, but I let them linger. I can see you out of the corner of my eye. What's your name again? I can't remember. Not that I would say anything even if I could. You're too far from me. You're forbidden. You're untouchable.You took a picture. Do you remember? I love that photogra
WindowsI lay my hand on the cold glass and look out. I live behind this transparent sheet, I am stuck in a world full of windows. I can sit here forever and look out of them, if I should so choose. Always looking out and never leaving, never going out into the real world that's waiting for me, waiting with open arms, a world full of sand and sunlight and shiny buildings with a hundred floors. But all I can do is pound on the glass. These windows will not let me go.I look at you, standing there on the other side of the window. Your eyes, like a kaleidoscope of blue and teal, are quizzical, looking into my soul with their characteristic skepticism. What's my problem anyway? Why can't I get out of here? I can pound my fists on the glass and scream until I have no voice, but it won't make me any less trapped. I used to be so happy. I used to be so content here. I miss not knowing that my world was made of windows. It's
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