Saturday, October 10, 2009

Snow globe

She woke to a heavy dusting of snow, and flakes like bleached flies trailing past the slats of her blinds. "Who ordered the winter wonderland? What is it, Febtober? Where's my winter lovah?" she thought.

As she burrowed into the warmth of her bedding, she mulled over a question posed to her the evening prior: 'What are you thinking right ... now?' If she were to utter a response at this very moment, it would not be channeling the voice in her head, but instead shooting from the hip. Her 'now' felt more like this: "my body wants your body. close."

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