Hospitalized Blood
untitled
It was with luxurious motion that her elbow resting on the arms of a chair, curled her fingers to capture mosquitoes in their exquisite net as she looked at him and spoke: "only a vial of blood each to find out how we die." How could he not assent, her arm possessed such grace and no concern.
His bicycle covered with icicles from the winter before. Special icicles that cannot melt or be knocked. He took them both for a ride.
Over the roar of his bicycle wheels, birds could be heard tweeting distantly; he knew he could not trust her. As she gave blood at the hospital, he wrote all this in a notebook:
"I know now I cannot trust her. My blood is my own, I will not give it. I always knew she was no good."
Obviously their relationship was on the rocks. A few weeks later they would break up dramatically on her doorstep, and the neighbors would look out the windows until they looked at each other and then they'd make a show of minding their own business. Everyone could hear, and their faces were easy to imagine.
Later on all the women would comfort her, saying things like, "We all knew he was no good."
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This is strange, and in a way that is both indicative of your style, yet at the same time different from your other pieces. I dunno...
The way it began I didn't see it flowing in the direction that it did, and it wasn't any sort of staggering or abrupt offshoot from one idea, but rather a strange, almost discordinate [I can't be arsed to look up the proper spelling for that word] shift into an odd story about a couple breaking up. I'm not sure if this could be taken as a good or bad thing, but I don't mean and negative conjecture by it.
I like this piece thoroughly. plus one
i feel like you write science fiction me. but that's probably just the pride talking. plus, future = cooler than anything ever, including me.
whatever.
i like the way you write. i think that's all there is.