Crabgrass

Mar 27, 2006 16:30

This time he was leaving. He’d gone about doing it in his head often enough. He imagined next weekend without her, how he would tend his garden and flop into his hammock with a good book. His spirit, compressed from folding over itself again and again according to her needs, would slowly spread and take root in the bare patches of dirt he ( Read more... )

summer, writing

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Comments 6

angelwings01 March 27 2006, 23:11:07 UTC
beautiful and sadish.

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baiacou March 28 2006, 00:17:39 UTC
I love the image of his spirit being folded over and over like a damascus knife, but not so tough.

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happytootum March 28 2006, 02:12:04 UTC
Just beautiful and melancholy..but hopeful at the same time. Thanks for sharing :)

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tinywarrior March 28 2006, 22:47:51 UTC
Oh no, write on! : )

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archivist10 March 28 2006, 20:16:36 UTC
This is my favourite. Excellent.

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