fiction

It took a while to decipher what my brain, the Collective Unconscious, or the Voice of God was telling me.

When I slipped into bed that night, I looked out the window at the sky. Blackness filled the upper echelons of the cityscape, but a few stars twinkled, determined, I guess, not to let the night speak for them.

The “Is it safe?” comment usually stopped every conversation cold. She glanced aside at the rows of frozen foods. A suitable location, indeed.

“When I look at the picture, I see the me I want to be. I don’t see a stain. I see possibilities.”

“The beauty I wake up to every day? Why, that belongs everywhere that’ll allow it in.”