Saturday, November 15, 2008

Dwell

It was that where the room was a lake, sandy miles out. The walls might have contained it, but only inasmuch as they make the story, the frame, the treeline god could have drawn. He left the water, she sitting there, through the back door. Outside was a wild—he imagined her saying, See you later, and, This sun on my arms just might be everything.

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