Stars.“Aren’t they beautiful?” She asks. It’s a windy day and the two of us are sitting on a hill looking at the night sky. She has a way of doing this, a way of taking the simplest things-the everyday things- and making them special. This is what I like about her, this is what keeps me coming back and talking. This is what keeps me coming back and wanting to stay.“Yeah,” I say. “They are.”The stars are sensational. They’re like light bulbs. They keep blinking on and off, twinkling. I like to think that there is someone out there, some type of greater force turning them on and off. Making them flicker for us.“You know,” she says. “We’re made out of them.”I smirk and nod my head as if to say ‘go on’.She looks at me and smiles. “I’d like to think that in all of us there are stars, burning deep inside of our souls, waiting to be let out.”As she
The Emotion Store.To be emotionless,Oh what a thrill that must be!I think I’d like to sell my emotions.Would you like them?I’ve got a few I don’t need.I’ve got a few I don’t want.Wouldn’t it be a thrill to be hurt,Yet not cry.To be mocked,Yet not get angry.To be rude,And have no guilt.Or to celebrate,Yet not be happy.On second thought…I think I’ll keep my emotions.Goodbye.The store is closed.