it was a yellow simple primer once removed from a basement file
all the text, numbers had been retained in it...Something needy
and then the date just stopped...the handwriting vanished from the
page..and all the pages thereafter were blank and ready...
the instrument of choice was easy. A Parker. It had been a summer
gift from a three week job walking a small cairn terrier. The instructions
were specific on what streets and routes to keep...the Pen had been an
unexpected boon on the last day. It had a good feel too it and still smelled
like mints and cigarettes. Before long it would take the cotton candy and this
new mystery perfume that no one figured out yet. Everything was a layer...a cycle
a circumference of Interchange she hummed...she always hummed when she thought..
quietly. It had helped her to break the habit of grinding her teeth at night when
it got really hairy in the house...wasnt anything spectacular going down...its was
just this mood in the air......it was hard to describe..but the diary went from just
slid behind the desk..to a shelf she made underneath...just enough room to slip the
diary in and up against the bottom of the dresser...it was a good one so the shelves
could come out and no one would see it..unless the wole thing moved and nothing was
moving much in the rooms these days...it was like the fall weather...days of extreme
heat and then the cold winds....prepping for the fall.....her handwriting was tinier now and defined...the loopy girl writing was okay for those ages....but she was a
woman now.... the diary was filling up...the pain wasnt so bad either on days like
this...the arthritis that would soon lock her wrists and ankles in another twenty years...the magic gene.....nothing magic....fate...and Endurance.....the bed was
warm where she had lain staring at the ceiling....there were hardly any posters or
photos up...."i'm unassuming" it was an understatement.....the shock of red hair
and pale skin...her parents called her the Ghost..a moniker she enjoyed...what she
didn't like was been compared to the wirey little black cat that made its rounds at
dusk and in winter nights...."I don't like that cat!" she was moving fast today
and swift was down the block when she thought she might have heard him say..."A broom
a Hat..a cat" he was always rolling those lines out and staring over the rooftops
like he could see people sitting there....it was uncanny and un nerving...
all the text, numbers had been retained in it...Something needy
and then the date just stopped...the handwriting vanished from the
page..and all the pages thereafter were blank and ready...
the instrument of choice was easy. A Parker. It had been a summer
gift from a three week job walking a small cairn terrier. The instructions
were specific on what streets and routes to keep...the Pen had been an
unexpected boon on the last day. It had a good feel too it and still smelled
like mints and cigarettes. Before long it would take the cotton candy and this
new mystery perfume that no one figured out yet. Everything was a layer...a cycle
a circumference of Interchange she hummed...she always hummed when she thought..
quietly. It had helped her to break the habit of grinding her teeth at night when
it got really hairy in the house...wasnt anything spectacular going down...its was
just this mood in the air......it was hard to describe..but the diary went from just
slid behind the desk..to a shelf she made underneath...just enough room to slip the
diary in and up against the bottom of the dresser...it was a good one so the shelves
could come out and no one would see it..unless the wole thing moved and nothing was
moving much in the rooms these days...it was like the fall weather...days of extreme
heat and then the cold winds....prepping for the fall.....her handwriting was tinier now and defined...the loopy girl writing was okay for those ages....but she was a
woman now.... the diary was filling up...the pain wasnt so bad either on days like
this...the arthritis that would soon lock her wrists and ankles in another twenty years...the magic gene.....nothing magic....fate...and Endurance.....the bed was
warm where she had lain staring at the ceiling....there were hardly any posters or
photos up...."i'm unassuming" it was an understatement.....the shock of red hair
and pale skin...her parents called her the Ghost..a moniker she enjoyed...what she
didn't like was been compared to the wirey little black cat that made its rounds at
dusk and in winter nights...."I don't like that cat!" she was moving fast today
and swift was down the block when she thought she might have heard him say..."A broom
a Hat..a cat" he was always rolling those lines out and staring over the rooftops
like he could see people sitting there....it was uncanny and un nerving...
