And once more: “Public opinion—private laziness.”
Amerigo Gazaway | Endless Summer
Take a look at your watch. Hot and hazy, day or night, the camp is open and abuzz. Holding on for a hum to catch or thrill me, I rambled around, a bee bouncing leisurely out from one flower to the next. Amerigo tinkered with a VHS, sampling the shiny old magnetic tape. The ghosts
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1.1.15
It was indigestion to boot—which she did before sinking down into the couch, composing her threadbare nightie, an iced Beefeaters now balanced on her hip crease at the base of her crossed legs.
1.1.14
She cut it short and stole the words back with a single thought, a passion rising from the pit of her taut-wound stomach.
The haze off the center
when it smolders. All the wires and motion atomize into a vapor for the eyes, smearing one sight into the second and so on. One finds it difficult to move without the proper footing and tumbles into the particles, carried from one interspatial body to the next, the spray stinging the whites of already tired
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1.1.13
Evelyn wiped the moisture from the glass screen on the side of the couch cushion, then her fingers and resumed typing: yes…but not really, and now—
1.1.12
Addy’s eyes cast down, he took abruptly to sulking up the stairs to dress for work while Evelyn sunk deeper still into the couch, the pillows cradling her with the salty opulence of excess.