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A good day to eat a pie

It was a beautiful day with lovely, happy people walking down the sidewalks. Enragingly happy, hand-holding people clearly able to enjoy such a beautiful day.

Rent was a month and a half late. Michael would likely let her borrow the money. For a price. Samantha had already written her a check out of her monthly trust-fund. She'd asked how much I needed and I lied and said $160. I bought a bottle of Black label (delivered), a pack of cigarettes and saved the rest for take-out.

I keep trying to make eye-contact with these walkers. One of them has to understand how much a beautiful day can break you. How rain or hail or natural disaster would be preferable. Yet, each seems oblivious to the malice of this perfect New York Spring day. No one feels the weight of it.

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The rain lashed the windows of the car as it made its way down the hill. The Fortress , as the locals liked to call the hill , was the line of divide between the town and the Nocturn valley.
"I'm bored ", came a voice from the back seat. Earl , a lanky nineteen year old , was again expriencing one of his moments of restlestness. He had been the most enthusiastic when the group decided to explore the Nocturn valley and its many myths.
However , It seemed , the lack of any action had taken its toll on Earl.
" It's only 10 more miles to go , bud " , replied Jon.
Jon , the 20 yr old de facto leader of the group , held the steering wheel more firmly. He could barely see out of the wind screen. The mist was closing in on them from all sides.
" I hope the cottage survives this night " , said Gary , as another bolt of lightning streaked through the sky. Gary looked out of the window trying to make some sense of his surroundings .
Gary , was the youngest member of the group at 18 yrs of age. He had an easy going outlook towards life. Always ready for a challenge , he liked taking things as they came.
The car screeched to a halt causing Earl to fall out of his seat.
" Jon , what happened ? " said Gary
Jon pointed out of the window unable to speak.
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Puppy Love

"Charlie," I gasped as I woke.

Last night we'd spent a few hours in the bunker. Earlier in the day, my mother had called me.

She said, "I have some news."

I said, "Who died now"? We'd been having a slew of deaths in the family. I never expected her to say it was Charlie.

When she said, "Charlie." I dropped the phone. I was in Iraq. Single. No children. My dog, Charlie was dead.

He was a rescue. I remember being disappointed when I went to meet him. He was larger than I expected and he didn't seem to like me very much. Within a few days we were on the same team. If you have never lived in NYC you don't know how lonely a city full of people can be. You can never understand how much a dog can be your best friend.

I ordered take-out for two.

What was I going to come home to if it wasn't my best friend? We were going to buy a VW bug and drive around the country. Now what?
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wisc 2

I think it means that it is a miracle that we have survived so long with such idealogical differences without outright conflict. I think that we have some how created a safe haven for hatred and still survived. The listless can survive next to the inspired and motivated. Because of the inspired and motivated.

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