Vignette, 2

These eyes I see staring through me in the mirror, an intensity that looks beyond me into the ether, the warm cold eyes that I see, ones that done know how they want to be.

The slow walk up, in anticpation, I can’t help but smile. There is ridiculousness that lies on the other side of the door, one that when I turn that knob I will be apart of.

The cold floor greets my feet and knees as I kneel contemplating life before my legs begin to hurt.

I sat there, in that dark room, watching as the little flecks of dust moved through the beam of light from the projector.

This empty room, white walls, hard floor, and so much space.  Everything looks too big, not how I remember it at all.

Bold moves bring them close, but you can see a touch of trepidation as the act has carried farther than anticipated.

She wags her tail, I wonder what she is thinking, she just wants to be near me, she wants me to pet her, or she just wants some food.

I don’t know what to believe, him or her was the choice I was given, not really a choice but a preference between people.

She walked like how a young girl imagined she would want to walk in the future, in an almost unbelievably exagerated way.

Sitting there on the bench, even if he looked like he was taking a breather, his body always looked a bit tense and largely strained.

That blanket touched my feet like clouds touch the sky. Sofly and with a bit of wimsy, with an absense of true warmth.

That small statue that went everywhere he went, took on an almost worn antique look after many days of travel.

A pain in the side arises, each breath feels as if someone has made velcro of his inside with nerve endings being constantly torn apart and put back together.

The small, infantesimal smile that was seen by few and understood by fewer contained all the happiness she had inside from reading that note.

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