I am standing on the Pier, looking at the ocean that is spread out in front of me. It is such a gorgeous picture, I am breathless. The skirt of my white dress billows in the wind, my hair is flying everywhere. I am so entranced by the ocean I do not hear him come up behind me. All of a sudden his big, strong arms incase me, making me feel so safe. He kisses the top of my head and says, " I love you so much. You know that, right?" I turn around and look at him. At his beautiful face. "Yes."
I wake up to a loud noise that is going on outside of my window. Damn. I hate this place.....is there construction going on somewhere?
I look out the window and see that the sleet is what is making so much noise.
I am surprised to see some crazy lady running down the street, chasing after something that must've gotten caught in the wind...
that's why you don't go outside when the weather is THIS bad....duh.
I finally ate something today....an apple. I must say, it wasn't as good as I thought that it would be. i had to drink a beer to get rid of its after taste. I guess that my body needs something, though. I have been feeling so weak, lately.
I hate this weather. It has been so miserable outside for the past couple of weeks. I peer out of my window again, this time seeing a black van making its way slowly up Baker Street. Hm.
I close the curtains.
I hate this weather.
I am cold......blankets?
Where are my blankets?
I find one underneath the bed and wrap it around me. I go and sit on my couch.....I find a cigarette squished between the cushions. My lighter is on the coffee table. God. I love smoke.
I look at my wrists. They are looking a little better today. After my cutting frenzy, they began to swell and turn purple. Thank God they look better. I hate doctors.
I finish my cigarette and smash the butt on my cushion...a bad habit.
I close my eyes, the rhythmic noise of the sleet is now putting me to sleep.
I look in the mirror. My hair is in its usual messy ponytail, my teeth are brushed, make-up is on. I have on my new sun dress that hugs my naturally thin body.
I smile.
Today is the day.
I leave my apartment at exactly 12:00 p.m. We are meeting at a little restaurant in Manhattan called Imagio's at 12:30. We all know that New York traffic is a mess.
My red pumps click as I skip down the stairs. I am so excited.
The weather outside is gorgeous: sunny, cloudless, in the high seventies. I love this weather.
I wave hello to Victor, the bellman. He blows me a kiss and calls me a taxi.
"Have a wonderful day, love," he smiles at me.
"Why thank you," I smile back.
He tells the taxi driver where I need to go as I look out the window onto the streets of New York city. In this beautiful weather, in this beautiful city, all I can think of is how today is the day.
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Naublus eventually tumbled into the train tracks, still rhythmically blurting out, "Wassup! Wassup! Wassup! Wassup!" His head jerked back and forth, and green, foamy pus started to ooze from his ears. He jangled uncontrollably on the tracks, like a Parkinson's-ridden hand, until his companion Snazy took charge of the situation.
"Alright, everyone, make a chain of four.
We're going to pull him out of that dungeon horror!"
A 40-something year-old man in a red bandana, a 19-year-old girl, and a seven-foot giant who seemed to span all ages, joined hands with Snazy. She dove into the tracks, still hanging on to the chain, and she jostled her way to Naublus' scarred arm. She grabbed hold, and up and out they went, back to safety. It was such a close call that Lady Liberty almost shit her pants. Which would've made the situation worse because she would not have been able to rescue Naublus.
But Snazy was there, and she was all Naublus ever needed.
She skipped away to find her love. She never came back.
Naublus forgot all about her, and he went back to his spinning -- his mental spinning, that is. Down he went, riding the grey, rusted-iron spiral that moved up and down, like a cow-milking machine. Oh Naublus, why again? Why this needless anguish that only shreds your heart? Naublus began to sob. He went on for the next three hours, until about 8:00 p.m., and his head literally shrunk a couple of inches because of the sadness draining out of him. Naublus had a smaller head, but he felt oh so much better.
Tap, tap, tip, tap, tap, tip, tip. His ears deceived him, Naublus thought. No, it was not rain. Diamonds. Diamonds! Naublus had not bathed in a diamond shower since he was a little girl in his homeland. He ran out, giddy and slobbering with excitement, into the United States of America. The diamonds tapped on his skin, stuck to it, didn't fall. On his shoulders, diamonds. On the tops of his feet, diamonds. On his tongue, diamonds. He needed more. He slid into a puddle, filling his whole being with the glimmering beauty. Oh, the satisfaction, the satiation, the fulfillment! The grey sun's light made the diamonds look like demon-fairies. They had come to rescue him from his depression. They lasted a lifetime.
Five minutes. One second. Three half-seconds. A century. The diamonds flattened out into cardboard circles. Covered in them was Naublus. Drowning in cardboard was Naublus. He thought about the murdered trees. Slashed trunks, branches made into dust. Sap spilling everywhere, baptizing the forest with the sins of industry. He flailed his arms outward, grunting a scream, ripping the cardboard off his body (it was everywhere).
"What the hell? You did not just bump into me! You did not--just bump--into me!" A woman with a sun dress and an expression to match it was clouded by Naublus, a cloudy man himself. It was time to rain on her little parade. With diamonds.
"Where the diamonds went?" Naublus asked her. He was a four-year-old.
The Feds is Watching
Marcus Manuel was holding the pack of ice to his head and laying on his bed. Worse than any hangover he could remember, his head was pounding and felt like it was never going to stop. He was still wondering how they got away from the Feds. From off-roading to going over medians to nearly flipping over twice, the whole night was still pretty much a blur to him. He really questioned whether or not Oscar's unconscious ass would remember any of it, including Manuel and Machelli having to drag his fat ass back to the store and lay him in his bed. What a night. His head hurt too bad to realize that it was a bit suspicious that three felons could simply outrun the Feds and be able to just go back to their homes. It had all subsided quickly. Too quickly. It had gone too smoothly, and something was definitely up. But Manuel was just glad they had survived.
Manuel finally stepped out of his apartment and saw Sloan Waters getting into a taxi. "Where are you going?" Manuel asked, just wanting to hear some semblance of getting away. "Manhattan. I have a lunch date at 12:30." Manuel checked his watch. It was 12 noon. He looked back over to the lady getting into the taxi and she had some strange maniacal grin on her face as she ducked her head into the taxi. "Fucking psycho," he muttered to himself. "Getting to Manhattan in 30 minutes. In a taxi. Stupid bitch thinks she can actually escape this place."
Apparently she had forgotten that this was Baltimore. Washington Heights. Nobody ever escaped. Manuel turned back into the building amidst the sound of thunder.
Manuel woke up from his slumber just in time to hear the rain start back up, round four o'clock in the afternoon. Ice cream truck was pulling up and selling to the kids on the block. Kids standing out there, in that cold rain. Looked like they were having fun though. Better they enjoy their childhood while it lasts, Manuel thought. He knew more than anybody how hard it was to be a grown-up.
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