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2d5955b
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Julie started the engine, and the air around the BSA danced to life, this time enclosing them in a roaring privacy - a momentary country, trembling at the curb. Outside, beyond their borders, the honey-slow twilight was thinning and quickening to a cold, dusty lavender. Skateboarders hurtled past like moths, urgently contorted, one-dimensional in the pale headlights rushing up the hill toward them.
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skateboarders
motorcycle
privacy
twilight
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Peter S. Beagle |
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64051a3
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I call her La Signora sometimes. Not for her to answer to, just for me, inside.
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unicorn
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Peter S. Beagle |
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0c5cf2d
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Julie raised her face, gasping and hiccuping, and he saw clearly how she would look when she was old. "Baby," he said, and began helplessly kissing lines and hollows and wounds that were not there yet, sick with tenderness and fear."
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Peter S. Beagle |
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7d4c491
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You are not mean. Cranky is different.
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Peter S. Beagle |