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Nothing, EverythingHe sat before her, hesitant to make eye contact. He tapped rhythmically on the table, a habit he had picked some time ago, although he was unable to recall exactly when. Shifting his gaze, he focused more on the two fingers. Unable to make eye contact with the love that sat before him, he watched the two fingers rap the table, creating a pulsing sound that seemed to echo the vast emptiness of the room. He paused, and took a deep breath, letting it out, as the rapping slowed to a halt. He reached across his body, rolling up his sleeve with great care, as though it caused him more pain to disrupt the fabric, then to revealNothing, Everything
by ~tallyuser
Goodbye.He ran to her, as quickly as he could. He couldn't let her leave without saying goodbye. He let his hand rest gently upon her shoulder. Most would be startled, to say the least. However, the manner in which his hand touched her was comforting to them both. She turned slowly, letting her hair flutter in the wind for a moment before allowing it to come to rest against her face. She looked up at him for a moment, with a look of question before letting her doubt fade away. His hand fell off her shoulder, and down her arm, and against her hand. He played with her fingers for awhile, eventually interlacing his with hers. He waGoodbye.
by ~tallyuser
Miles per hour.The needle passed sixty without hesitation, much like the lack of hesitation in the man. The rain pounded on his windshield, at which point the wiper came at an attemt to keep the window clear and safe. Safe. The man grinned at the irony, the windshield wipers giving him an illusion of safety. His eyelids started to droop as the thousand or so downers set in. Still, he needed to watch the dial. He watched it pass seventy, fighting to stay awake. Fighting. His thoughts wandered briefly to the wife that had left him. The kids that had forgotten him. The life he was leaving behind. “what life?” he muttered, in a tone that surprised eveMiles per hour.
by ~tallyuser
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Party HardLife of the Party. You're the life of the party, chugging, hugging, humping, until the dead of night. But when do you start your life? All I ever hear of you, is drunken stories, and from you,Party Hard
drunken banter. You're an empty soul, without an empty home. What're you doing? Are you trying to forget, or trying to create something to remember? No one even knows your name, you're just the guy with the booze.
by ~spiralsinthedark
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