Work in Progress, Maybe

The problem was never a matter of loving you, of wanting you, of almost everything that surrounded you. It was the combination of it all, of that tangled web of lies, those disastrous spirals that sprang up to swallow us whole that became the problem. Whispered words choked to an early grave in the light that dawn brought with it that craved only to make you understand the ways in which I ached. Ached for your fingers against my bare skin, for the heat of your breath against my neck, for your hands in mine, for the rush that you provided. Justice would never be done by the words that I could whisper, that I could scream in fits of rage and ecstasy, that I could say casually with a smile you once called sly.

These are the flickers of you that I am faced with in the dead of night, when my soul grows restless and my mind has nothing but time to wander. Through the hall, down the stairs to a couch tainted with flashes of times spent together that I simultaneously want to burn to destroy what remains and keep alive as long as possible to stop you from disappearing. Ghostly renditions of our domestic life still haunt the nooks and crannies of this house monthly, weekly, daily, hourly. Jumbled together images that come and go from view, jarring in ways that I cannot fully grasp like the puffs of smoke I exhale on the deck at midnight as I try to detach myself.

Typical Siblings

          "You're going to make us late!" Rose screamed at the top of her lungs as she stood at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the second floor of the esteemed Charleston's guest house.
          Lily rolled her eyes immediately in response without much thought into how the effect was lost without Rose present in her room. "When am I ever on time!?" She shouted back eventually in question as she ran from the warm comforts of the steamed up bathroom to her adjacent peach colored bedroom. The muted sound of her frantic rush through outfit after outfit reaching its way downstairs. "It's not like the others are read either!"
          As Lily spoke Rose stomped her left two inch wedge sandal clad foot against the cherry hardwood flooring at the house's entryway. "They don't take forever and a day to get ready!" She snapped back before taking what was meant to be a deep, calming breath.
          Mint took that golden lull of silence as a sign that he should step out of his first floor bedroom to let out a growl in imitation of a grizzly bear; an act he was growing increasingly well practiced at. The noise of which caused his sister to jump a few feet in the air, at least that's how he would tell the tale later on. "Yelling at her only encourages her to move slower," he noted in a matter of fact tone as he raised his right hand up to scratch at his four day old stubble.
          Rose merely shrugged her shoulders at such nonsense as her rapid heartbeat came down to rest at its normal pace once more. A gesture that was perfectly mocked by Iris as she stood silently behind Rose. An action that caused Mint to explode into a fit of laughter. "Ugh! You two are terrible!" Rose grumbled loudly as she stomped off towards the kitchen, pushing her way past the immaculately dressed Iris without pause.
          "Us, terrible? I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Iris noted aloud with a shrug of her slender, rounded shoulders. "We're more like your average, every day sort of siblings."
          "Which is exactly why we're so terrible," Mint began with a grin. "We're not those creepy angelic sort that she dreams about," he finished up with a short lived chuckle.
          "I wonder if she bothers to factor in that fantasy families all come with bland personalities." Iris mused mostly to herself.
          "Bland? Whose bland now?" Lily inquired as she finally bounded noisily down the curved staircase looking ready to go. "Couldn't be me," she added unnecessarily since a simple glance in her direction would label her as a colorful woman - at least so far as her clothing was concerned.
          "Oh, just Rose's fantasy family," Iris replied nonchalantly as she strode towards the kitchen's entryway. "Come on Ms. Bland, you're putting us off schedule with your huffing and puffing more than our Rainbow Queen."
          "Ugh, I'm coming," Rose snapped as she set an empty glass into the kitchen's stainless steel sink.
          Meanwhile Mint stumbled back into his room to grab his suit jacket, grumbling the whole time. "Why do we have to show up together?"
          "Because as Charleston children we are to set an example for our peers and society as a whole by displaying a face of unity and blah blah blah." Lily replied in near perfect imitation of their mother, the proud and not to be crossed Daisy Charleston. At least that was the persona their mother had adopted after the four of them were born. 
          "Right, because us continuously showing up late to our own family held affairs in a great example for our guests." Mint mumbled to himself as he idly fidgeted with his khaki dress suit. An outfit he was all too familiar with, which was an unfortunate situation if you asked him about it.
          "I blame that on being the product of a reformed hippie," Lily said jokingly, making air quotation marks as she said the word reformed.
          "Regardless of the reason for our united front and tardiness we need to get a move on things to keep it all fashionable," Iris announced as she strolled back into view, daring lime green heels clicking away against the floor. Followed by a now quiet Rose who had her arms crossed over her chest.
          Grumbling in unison Lily and Mint took their well seasoned positions behind their fearless leader. The line a well established way of walking and presenting themselves to the public thanks to countless hours of practice. Only recently was there a change in formation due to Iris's recent surpassing of Mint in height; an occurrence that their mother was quite pleased to see. Iris was, after all, the best at putting on a show for the masses.
          "All hail the amazon," Mint mumbled as Iris took a hold of the brushed nickle door handle, twisting it to open their front door. All four of them silently marched on to the sunlit wrap around porch presently being used as a presentation platform, speaking podium and all. Each of their faces instantly lighting up with smiles as they stepped outside; the politician's mask as their father liked to say after a few too many bourbons on the rocks. An almost worrisome habit if not for the ease at which he denied ever using it himself and the willingness of the masses to believe him.
          "Ah, yes, here they are now. My darling children," Mrs. Charleston announced as she gestured towards them with a gracious wave of her hand. "Now that they're here I think that it is about time this carnival fundraiser started, how about y'all?" She yelled out over the crowd with a smile plastered on her polished face.
          Announcement made, Daisy waved off the crowd of high society members before swiftly turning to focus her intense attention on her darling children. Pointing at each of them in turn she gestured them over as she fixated the group with a look that spoke volumes for how she felt. For her children it was also a look that they were all too familiar with that meant they were in deep, deep trouble.

Safety and Secrets

          The original version of this short story with the potential to grow was written during a store wide meeting. There wasn't a lot of editing done to it since then, mostly a mixture of cleaning up my handwriting (I was writing in my sloppy penmanship at an awkward angle) and color coding the dialogue because that's how I roll in my notebooks. I forget what exactly the meeting was for, something about functioning before noon not being my thing at the time (as if I have a thing). However, I do recall being asked during the meeting if the filled up pages of chicken scratch had been done just that morning and saying yes. So yea, good job meetings, way to give me productive writing time and paying me for it, =P. Anyway, without further ado, here is the actual story. Enjoy.

- - - - - - - - - -

          Play it safe and plan ahead, those were the lessons driven into Jacob Reynold's head during the years of his youth. Continuous advice he had taken to heart as time saw him transform from a young boy to a young man. Gifts bestowed on his younger, ill equipped self were used and understood later on in his life to increase his presence in the world at large. Few of those wise family members were alive today to see the result of their advice, of their gifts. The reckless boy was now the king of a self made empire even though he could have settled away as a hermit from inheritance alone.

          This empire was beginning to drain on him and rob him of his remaining youth. Between meetings, paperwork, travel, and acting the part of a gracious host at social functions he rarely found time for himself. Over exertion that was steadily starting to worry his staff that had been with him since the start. Some worried due to their own increased hours, others from genuine concern, and some were merely hopping on the band wagon. Not that it mattered much as Jacob never seemed to heed the advice that came with the worry.

          "You buzzed sir?" Rosalyn asked as she strode into Jacob's office, interrupting his current train of thoughts. As she awaited a response she rested her hands against her heather gray trousers, nervously picking at the fabric.

          "Huh?" Muttered Jacob as he glanced up from his current pile of paperwork. While brief in length he still registered the way Rosalyn still had her left foot near the door to his office and the way she kept pinching the fabric of her trousers as if she would rather be somewhere else. "Oh, yes," he started firmly, the rest of his office swimming back into focus. Folding his calloused hands on the mountain of paperwork before him he smiled. "Can you take care of the office for the rest of the day?" He asked, sure that the answer would be a yes as he had hand picked Rosalyn for her drive, for her loyalty.

          Rosalyn pursed her lips for a split second before smiling brightly, sparkling white teeth showing for a moment before she dialed it back. Originally toady had been her day off to attempt to spend time with her boyfriend to mend their shattering relationship, but that would have to wait another day it looked like. "Not a problem at all sir," she stated in reply slowly as to keep her voice level and not reveal her true desire to do anything but that today. "May I ask why Mr. Reynolds? You don't have any outside meetings scheduled today." Rosalyn asked, glancing towards the vaulted ceiling composed of light gray planks of wood that gave the office and summer home vibe as she recalled her boss's busy schedule.

          Jacob noticed the shift of emotions and shrugged his shoulders forward. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to remedy that situation today. Drive and loyalty could only carry someone so far, eventually his push for excellence would tire even his best employee out. "Thank you. It's nice to know that I can always count on you," he declared, leaning back into his plush brown leather wing back swivel chair. "Private meeting with someone off of the books. I may be back tonight to catch up with work."

          "Okay sir. Should I let the rest of the crew know?" Rosalyn asked before she took a moment to adjust her thick framed glasses that had begun to slip down the bridge of her nose.

          "If you want to, otherwise don't worry about it. If anyone absolutely needs to get in contact with me they're more than welcome to call me," Jacob answered, his gray eyes not missing a single one of Rosalyn's reactions. Observing people had always been a hobby of his. The skills gained from it, such as how to recognize split second emotional reactions, had served him well over the years when it came to how to best handle his employees.

A Throwback Gem - High School Thoughts

          The following is a rediscovered gem from writing in high school, exact date I'm unsure of. I found it amusing enough and a serious reminder of how people were in high school (especially a lot of girls) to be posted.

- - - - - - - - - -

          Saturday evening and still there was no call regarding whether or not her and her unaware crush's plans would actually occur tomorrow or not occur for that matter. Patience, hers, was beginning to wane as she sat there on her twin size bed just staring at her neon orange phone. He had to call, that was her make believe rule. If he didn't then all hell would break lose and whatever last bit of faith she had in the opposite sex would fail her for the last time. No, if he didn't call by midnight all the hope she had left would be distinguished. Oh well, one more lost star among thousands.

          She couldn't, no she wouldn't think about what he had said. That would simply make it worse, shatter her faster and in a more deadly fashion. Except she was thinking about what he said over and over again, the words the hamster of the wheel in her head. Round and round the words went, we'll meet up Sunday - I promise. Run little hamster, run your little heart out and don't let the world hurt you. No, no that wasn't right - this was just a nightmare, it couldn't real. He would call, yeah he bloody well would call - she hoped, oh god did she hope that was true. Hope doesn't work that way though, so it was time to spiral away from herself into a new existence, into a new pocket of life within herself surrounded by ice.          The phone wasn't going to ring by will power, hell no. If it did then she would be dreaming, having fallen asleep waiting. Damn it, she should just call him - let him know she was dying to know and give away her secret of liking him. Never, that wasn't a solution to ever be considered, regardless of how desperate she was to hear his voice again. Then just like that it rang and her heart began to soar towards somewhere above the clouds, into her special pocket of happiness reserved for making herself a walking lie outside of her room.           Yet just like that all of her happiness disappeared. Okay it had everything to do with her picking up the phone only to hear the voice of someone else, someone else telling him that he was to busy with her to hang out with her. With that a nerve snapped and she just hung up the phone without a single word. It had come from his house, caller ID had told her as much. Except who the girl was she didn't know. That didn't matter one bit though, he had broken a promise to her and for that she would disappear into the unknown.          Curling up into a ball she quietly sang to herself. The words had been memorized after hearing them enough, after all her father had sang it to her multiple times when they were closer, when the whole family was closer. Then soon enough none of them were particularly close, a family of arguments healed over by overly fake happiness. No one needed to know that inside she was dying and through that everyone was an unwanted presence, which was the real reason that her relationships with her family was dying.          Crumbling defenses and a bubble of darkness - eternal darkness, that was her on the inside. The outside was a combination of happiness, sadness, and everything in between. Maniacal laughter to crying and back again to the laughter. Snapped, a dry twig stepped on with every intent to destroy it. Ruined, eroded metal that had never been taken care of. Exaggerated to an extreme, oh well it would all be okay. That lie was sanity, a tree branch to cling to in hopes of survival - her grip weakening with every second. And then it was all over in a few seconds and she was simply herself once more, the same old Rebecca Leigh Jones that everyone knew and loved, hated, liked, or disliked.

Matthias Quinn Jamenson

  An exasperated sigh escaped from the almost constantly pursed lips of Ms. Pickrell as she stared up at Quinn. “Do you ever get tired of being such a nuisance?” She asked with as much calm as she could muster, quite tired of reminding her student that he had work to do.
  Quinn thought it over, casually leaning back against one of the desks in the room; calloused hands gripping on to the edge. “Do you ever get tired of my mother’s room?” He shot back finally, lips curving up into his all to well known smirk.
Ms. Pickrell’s eyes narrowed at the reference, hands moving on to her hips as she became defensive. “Different situations Quinn,” she replied carefully, the words turning over in her head. “What her and I do doesn’t concern you and you should know well enough to behave in class unless you want to deal with her being... disappointed.” The pause before disappointed thought over well before it came out; such a well calculated hit as far as she was concerned.
Tightening his grip on the plastic top of the desk, Quinn’s smirk lost a little bit of its normal luster. “Fine, I’ll have the assignment done in time for class and I’ll even refrain from disrupting your oh so well thought out lesson plan,” he managed to say at last as he pushed himself off of the desk; standing up to his full height of 6’3. “Now, if you don’t mind ma’am, I have some excess energy to burn off ahead of time.”
With that Quinn was out the door, long strides removing himself from the room before he could even hear a response. Said strides continued to propel the youth towards the doors leading to the outside at the front of the school; black backpack bouncing against his back with each step. As he approached the door the occasional wave, hello, and head nod was given to a familiar face, but nothing more; a boy with a mission one might say. A mission that was accomplished with ease as rough hands earned through hard work making contact with the handle of one of the main doors and pushing it open with more force than intended.

Birdsong High School - Olivia Marie Gomez

Birdsong High School was as bright as the name tended to imply; almost perfect looking in the photos on the school pamphlets and site. What most parents deemed to be the best school in town; not that such a roaring recommendation meant much since it was the only high school in the small town. Regardless, staff members took the glowing praise to heart and tried their best to keep things up to standard for themselves and the growing minds of the student body.

Of course, the students didn't always agree with this. At times finding the freedom to self educate on specific projects to be frustrating; especially those in their ninth grade year when the concept was first introduced. Though even those in their later years occasionally floundered with the idea of an education tailored better to suit their interests while also being educated on the basics of Math, English, and a language of their choice.

Olivia Marie Gomez, currently in her senior year, had been one of the multiple students to find herself overwhelmed at the teaching strategy of the school. Unsure of how to accept being thought of and treated as someone capable of their own decisions for once despite knowing it was coming thanks to an older brother. However, now that she had managed to stumble forward with a wavering 3.5 GPA into her senior year, she found herself grateful for how the years had turned out. Well, at least to the point to think the situation over as she impatiently tapped her foot behind someone in line to get herself an unhealthy drink fix for lunch rather than some actual food.

This particular habit of hers wasn't new; unless of course the student stuck in front of her was new to the area. Otherwise it was a well known lunch time ritual kept in place to keep control of parts of the day when there wasn't as much structure in the surrounding area. Not that the classroom environment was much better for that, but at the very least there was a noise control system in place.

"You know, there's always five choices. Never four, never three. They never run out and yet every day one of y'all manages to stare at it as if there is a new choice," she grumbled quite audibly, black Vans decorated with gunmetal gray zombies hitting against the ground louder in an effort to show her dislike for waiting more than five seconds for her afternoon caffeine fix. Which was, quite possibly, one of the few things she considered herself to be rude during; otherwise it was as much about sunshine and lollipops as she could handle. Better friends first then enemies to start off the bat after all.

Once the student was done making their choice, Olivia happily and quickly inserted the correct amount for a drink and punched in her choice of the day; a Dr. Pepper. Opening it up, she stepped away from the small room for the machines, walking into the main lunch area, drink already open. Beginning to take a sip she stumbled on the shoelaces of her own shoes, falling forward and managing to spill some (rather entirely too much) of her drink on a student she didn't recognize. Screaming an apology shortly after an expletive, she began to flee from the scene to get some paper towels or something.

Super Hero Power

          Tick. Tock. The familiar, constant movement of the library's study room's singular analog clock provided comfort for the room's only inhabitant. On a normal day that continuous, monotonous noise would go by unnoticed by the aforementioned person, but today there were no other distractions for them to focus on. Instead they were stuck waiting and hoping that their normal distraction comrade would show her face at some point, preferably sooner rather then later. Until such a time the person in the room kept their focus on that repetitious noise to keep steady, to avoid falling victim to frustration and hopelessness.
          "I'm beginning to think that your standard belief is that I won't show," a feminine voice stated from near the back entrance of the room. "At least that's the message your body tends to convey when I'm late," the owner of the voice added on as the original occupant of the room straightened up in their seat and turned to look at the new arrival.
          "Probably because your definition of late starts at a thirty minute minimum," the male that had already been in attendance pointed out. "It's not exactly the best confidence builder," he added on, his body still turned to allow him to keep his jade green eyes on the girl.
          "If you know my habits so well you should plan around them," the girl shot back, her long pale legs made short work of the room as she strode to the front of the room as she spoke. She spun around on the balls of her left foot then to face the desk that the young man was seated at.
          "I tried that once, somehow you were still thirty minutes late. Pretty sure that's your super hero power." The male commented as he turned to sit back in the chair properly. A broad smile was on his face now, the dimples on his face quite evident.
          "Shoot, you figured me out. Now to keep you quiet with my secret. I could either kill you or seduce you to keep it safe," proclaimed the twenty something year old female as she turned around again. She scooted back then to press her butt up against the edge of the desk. Raising her right leg up she half hopped, half slid into a seated position on the desk, turned to face towards her friend. Leaning down she brushed her lips against the young man's left cheek, planting a quick kiss there. "Personally I'm a face of the seduction option," she whispered, winking as she sat up straight.
          The boy's naturally tanned cheeks lit up as he felt the girl's smooth, soft lips against them. Unsure of how to respond at first he sat there dumbfounded, his left hand mindlessly rubbing his cheek. "Tease," he managed to stammer out after a little while, tilting his chin up to look at the girl better.

Just Up and Leave

          Dusk had settled over the sleepy town of Bakersville. Dulled over blues and pinks still lingered in the sky from the day's sunset. A sunset that was met by the ringing sound of glass against glass; a toast between friends to ring out the final day of summer. Tomorrow their school lives would resume, but for tonight they were free for a little while longer. Not that other obligations had failed to intrude on their time, school was merely a different sort of feeling, sort of trap in this nowhere town.
         "There has to be so much more than this," Adelaide declared from his propped up position against an ancient oak tree. To illustrate his point he swept his right arm through the air in front of him, gesturing at the world surrounding them.
         "Says who? Maybe this is what the rest of the world experiences. All of the same old woes and joys. They may differ in the exact details, but maybe it's all really the same," countered Edith as she adjusted her position against Adelaide to account for his movement.
         "Maybe, but we don't know for certain. Won't know until we get out of this nowhere town and try to experience something different, something better than all of this." Adelaide stated, his words a rush of thoughts he had been having for months. Excitement over the prospect of leaving coursed through him as he spoke, causing his legs to shake as he was unable to stay completely still. Movement that caused now empty glasses to fall over, rolling their merry way down to the edge of the rainbow zebra patterned blanket Edith and him shared. "Like tonight we could get back in my jeep and run. Be somewhere new before anyone even knows we're gone."
         "What will we do when we get there? Find the same drab jobs? Find new friends to try and fit in with?" Edith asked despite having made up her mind to go. A decision made evident by her standing up, abandoning her comfortable position nestled up against Adelaide, a look of determination on her face. Swinging her left fluorescent pink oxford Converse clad foot towards the vehicle in question.
         "Anything we want Baby Cakes. We can reinvent ourselves, choose to be whoever we feel like being. And when we're done we'll disappear into the night to become someone new." Adelaide answered, green brown eyes seemingly pulsing with vibrant energy as he spoke. He stood then, rocking back on his feet to stay in motion. Absently tugging at the bottom of his green shirt with two bears on it at chest level with one wearing a hat and a polka dot tie proclaiming that some days he felt pretty average, righting the rumbled mess that it had become due to Edith's head resting on his midsection for hours.
         "What if I don't want to be someone new every time?" Edith inquired, feeling confident of the answer already. She was addicted to the way Adelaide spoke with such enthusiasm, such exuberance when an idea gripped him. Each word was punctuated by a step towards Adelaide's '06 Jeep Cherokee which had been an early birthday present from his parents.
         "Then stay the same, do whatever makes you happy. You know I'll love you no matter what you decide to do." Responded Adelaide as he stayed rooted to the spot by the oak tree over looking the lake by his family's cabin. As thrilled as he was at the prospect of following through with one of his life ambitions with the woman he had just admitted he was in love with he was also terrified of the unknown.

The View from Below

          They hung loose on her hips, dipping down one side or another to reveal a hint of the tanned skin underneath until she noticed and pulled them up. Those devilish dark blue jean shorts with their frayed cuffs were the teasing bane of Winston's life. A near constant reminder of what he couldn't have from his lowly position as the friend, well best friend, but that did little to assist with the situation. From that position he always noticed the slips, the little hints of a world he was denied long before Penny became conscious of them, corrected them. Even those actions held an allure for him, though he wished that they didn't. After all, they had a way of entrapping him, of getting him caught in the act of staring in slack jawed appreciation.

         Aware of a look that Penelope, or Penny as she preferred, shook off more often than not she reached down to slide her right thumb through one of the belt loops on her cut off shorts and tugged them upwards to right them. Momentarily Winston frowned at this development despite knowing full well that it would happen, it always did in the end. With it came a shift of his attention; the return of his gaze to his partner in crime since elementary school's oval face. Not surprised at all by the scowl his renewed facial observation was met with. Exchanges of expressions such as that were becoming increasingly more common place.

         "You can hardly blame me for looking," Winston stated for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm a blue blooded male and you're what we like to call a ten," he added on in way of explanation of his defense.

         Penny rolled her eyes at this declaration. "No, I'm what we like to call a 5.9, maybe a 6.9 on an extra fabulous day. Besides I can blame you all I want. We're just friends and you know better mister needs to keep it in his trousers." She countered, tilting her head down to better stare at Winston from her heightened position near the top of the slide's ladder she had paused to fix her shorts.

         "We're only just friends because you won't give me a chance," Winston grumbled quite audibly as he stood to the left side of the rickety metal slide they had discovered in an overgrown part of their favorite park, waiting for his turn on it.

         "I don't want to ruin our friendship and you know that I'm still dating Bentley," Penny grumbled right on back as she situated herself on the top of the slide, shivering as her mostly bare legs came into contact with the chilly surface of the slide. Perfect position found, Penny pulled her lavender tinted aviator goggles down over her cornflower blue eyes, taking a moment to fix her ruffled up chocolate brown hair with natural lighter brown highlights.

         "Bentley the tool," mumbled Winston under his breath as he stepped towards the bottom of the slide for a better view. "Systems are all clear for take off," he announced as he pulled out his phone from the right front pocket of his dark wash blue jeans to capture a video of the first slide launch.

         Penny frowned for a moment at hearing Winston's mumbled comment, but decided to not say anything in response as she wasn't in the mood for that argument today. "One, two, three, and blast off!" She exclaimed before beginning her rapid descent down the slide. Squealing in delight as she quickly slid down the short right Penny raised her arms up to relish in every last second.

Why I'll Die A Crazy Cat Lady

          For a while now I've been meaning to write out a list of things that I like in guys because that's a conversation that comes up every now and again. You get to talking with someone and if you're close enough it just sort of happens, gets brought up some how. The thing is I'm never entirely sure how to answer that one. I want lots of things, I think in the moment, how do I list them all? Must be funny, must be charming, must be romantic, must be blah blah blah. Except the thing is, those all sound a little wrong when I write them out or say them aloud. While yes, those are nice, they're not quite on spot for what could really make or break things. Lots of people are charming, are nice, are funny, are something and that's great, but definitely not quite enough.
          It came up again recently while talking to an online friend and I decided right then screw it, I'm going to figure this out to some extent and eventually post it for the world to see... That was nearly a month ago and I'm just now getting around to the posting part. I have worked on it since then, started at work one night on a piece of scrap paper. Since then it has evolved some and been tinkered with while feigning interest in the dramatics surrounding me at my main day time employment. All in all I think they're reasonable requirements of sorts... Even if I'm also completely sure that they're why I'll die a crazy cat lady.

          1.) Doesn't regularly make me want to feed him to sharks.
                    - You would think that this is sort of something that makes sense, but I've come to realize that I have a tendency to never pay attention to it until mixed signals have happened or I've said I'm interested in someone. Likeships make you blind or something. Also, I don't literally mean I am going to feed someone to a shark just that sometimes I am done with a situation, an action, something.
          2.) Can and does text.
                    - Here's the deal, I live at work quite often and my main form of communication with my all over the place schedule is text messaging. Calls are pretty rad too, but those aren't always on the table as an option. Thus if I can't text you and have you respond fairly consistently (because hey, life does happen), it just isn't a good fit. That isn't to say if they never text me for like a day or two I'm going to flip the fuck out, just that it should be understood I'm a texter in the worst way.
          3.) Drinks like a fish or at least accepts the fact that I do.
                    - The acceptance part is the one that truly matters. I co-host party events, I enjoy going to parties with other people, I socially drink like a fish and I like it. It's one of those things that will possibly die down with time, but for right now it's a part of me and I'm not going to change it just to be with someone.
          4.) Is capable of playing board games and the like while drinking like a fish.
                    - Not everyone is capable of this, which is a shame at times but it's also okay to an extent. I'm not talking games where you have to really think out your turn (MtG, agricula, etc.), but if you can't even handle Cards Against Humanity while drunk then please go home, <3.
          5.) Accepts drunk dials in good humor.
                    - Yeah, okay, I'm kind of notorious for this. I'm not looking for involved conversations or deep ones. More of a shout, some laughs, and being screamed at by multiple drunk individuals.
          6.) Capable of interacting with other hooman beings.
                    - This is another one of those things that I wish I didn't have to state, but it's something that I've encountered before. Even with my general dislike of people I still enjoy social activities and those involve conversing with other people for unknown lengths of time. Also, as a co-host, I won't always be hanging on the arm of someone to make sure they're okay, they're fine, they're not hiding in a corner. This is true for events I'm not helping in running, but yea...
          7.) Similar taste and thoughts on music.
                    - This is more of a super idealistic one since I do not often find people that listen to the same bands as I do. Really though, the more important part is the thoughts on music. I am not one to beat other genres into the ground, to hate on other music that may aid someone else in their life. I like music for it being music, for it making me happy. 
          8.) Loves going to concerts - even random ones chosen on a whim.
                    - I miss concerts something fierce, especially going to them with someone else. There's just something to said about the whole experience and there's so much joy involved for me. Like yea, it's cool that it's not everyone's thing, but it is mine and I want to share it.
          9.) Doesn't constantly beat jokes into a bloody pulp.
                    - Some jokes are hilarious, some can last, and some you just wish you never told someone because ohmygosh they never let it go. Seriously. Dude. For cereals. Just let it die already.
          10.) Embraces his inner child.
                    - Lets go to the zoo! The aquarium! Wonder around a toy store or any store just being silly and looking at things. Be silly, be weird... Color in a book, play with fingerpaints... Just, yea.
          11.) Has hair long enough to fiddle with and doesn't mind it being played with. (As a tie in, if there's a beard, also doesn't mind it being touched.)
                    - This one basically speaks for itself. Like, for realsies.
          12.) Enjoys adventures with and without concrete destinations.
                    - I love road trips to places I have a plan for and those ones you take on a whim. Lets get in the car and just go, go, go.
          13.) Plays video games (especially RPGs) and isn't a douche about it.
                    - The isn't a douche part is quite important. I've met plenty of people who play games that can be absolutely rude over how they're so much better at it than you, that they beat it so quickly, that it is the best best best and everything else is the worst thing ever. I just enjoy them because they're fun to me, I have no reason to hate on other games in a real serious manner. As for playing them in general, I am all for hanging out and playing an rpg even if it is one player because it's just awesome.
          14.) Has a life outside of the relationship.
                    - It's a matter of a healthy existence. If the only thing that exists is the relationship and thus me then I'mma be a worried bee. It's just not right. There was a life before me, there should be one with me.
          15.) Capable of taking care of himself.
                    - This sort of ties in with number fourteen. We're adults, lets both be pals that can pay for our stuff and hang out and not be completely reliant on one another.
          16.) Isn't a hairy beast.
                    - Seriously, so much seriousness there. Too much hair freaks me the frack out and makes me uncomfortable. Like. Why... Why is there so much hair everywhere?

          And now for a couple of bonus notations..

          Bonus 1.) Has a nifty accent.
                    - I'm a sucker for a Scottish accent and even a fair amount of southern ones (it's the word reckon that really helps there.) So dating someone with one? Super duper extra nifty.
          Bonus 2.) Has a ginger beard.
                    - This sort of started as a joke once, but really they're kind of magnificent in a way. Not that other colored beards are bad or anything, they're just inferior.

          So right, I believe number one is the main reason I will be forever alone and die a crazy cat lady.

A Disaster is Always Better Than Playing with a Sure Thing

          The late shift normally agrees with me. I can settle away in my head as music plays, letting myself drift through the wee hours. The tiny projects I want to complete are worked on, unlike what tends to happen the rest of the time. A doodle here, some writing there, a book to cozy up with; little things conspiring together to keep time flowing, to keep me engaged. Problem is that at times my head drifts too far away, it goes wandering down dark little paths crisscrossed with tangled webs. Dark little paths that beckon, that holler, that demand attention I wish I better resisted giving to them, allowing them to have.
          That first sparked reaction is troublesome, is my downfall. What may have been a regular night filled with nothing terrible, nothing disorientating can suddenly become rocked, shaken vigorously. Frustrating chain reactions that burst, that explode, that keep pulling me back under waves I cannot see anymore. A set of reactions I should expect ahead of time, should be able to prepare for before the inevitable happens, but I cannot. The thought patterns differ, they evolve from time to time, and they are not always recognizable as something that will make me want to crawl out of my skin.
          Instead I am hit full force with that need, that desire to depart, to flee, to engage in the flight reaction. Responses that I cannot cater to, cannot give into as badly as I wish to, so other actions are taken to counteract whatever it is that plagues me, that wants to drown me. Pacing in the lobby, a short loop that does nothing to deter the thoughts at the edge of my mind dancing in the shadows where they can play peek-a-boo. A book left open to bed read through in spurts, between the times where I grasp at images that turn, that twirl, that spiral out of control. Music in the background, soft and quiet, lyrics that attempt to keep me grounded for the most part. Some songs pull me, drag me towards memories that crush, towards thoughts I am not fond of entertaining. Words written in a manic rush, in a slow meticulous fashion, in ups and downs to try to halt things.
          Madness, a mess, a mistake...

An Insignificant Dot in a Large Circle

          I realized recently that it has been quite some time since I have managed to settle down in front of a computer and just type away to my hearts content, to ramble away until the sun is beckoning for me to sleep like the vampire that I regularly become. At first it was a matter of losing my dear laptop. A devastating problem that still exists and may one day be remedied if I ever properly prioritize reacquiring a computer of some sort. Since then it has changed to being a matter of not knowing how to begin, where to start, what to say to get those little thoughts in my head rolling. That's the problem that has plagued me since my computer access has grown from nonexistent to while I whittle away at the late night hours for work multiple days a week. What a terrible problem.
          The thing is I'm not even sure if I could in all conscious say that it's because I don't know how to get things started. There are several, many, a plethora of beginnings to draw from, choose from, to decide between. Knowing that, accepting that means that I am aware that my drive is fairly low for things that I pretend to be passionate about. Well, okay, that's not completely true either as I do scribble out rambles in my notebooks, on my arms, on tiny scraps of paper... They just don't all make it out into the lime light, they don't all get on stage for the amusement of a nonexistent crowd. Most days I am convinced this is better for all parties involved as angst isn't entirely exciting. Angst is the wrong word, it's overused, it devours all the categories similar to it... That's a different story, a different ramble I think, I believe, I'll make it so.
          What I mean is that I don't think everyone needs to know every thought that scampers, runs, tumbles its way through my hyperactive mind, my dull mind, my confused mind. I have notes about how I've met some people, of what I thought during those early days of blooming friendships, rough days at work, little things, meaningless things to people that aren't me. Then there are the funny things like my list of things I like in boys titled why I'll die a crazy cat lady. Which I feel should be posted sometime, maybe even tonight, tomorrow... However days work, they're kind of quite terribly confusing. But yes, you see, the mix isn't for all, it's not even for me... Ugh, that's all broken and I don't even want to fix it anymore.
          Anyway, back to the beginning, to what I wanted to say some time ago... Minutes ago, seconds ago, this time business is still quite convoluted. This discovery of a lack of a proper ramble in months. The last one was almost exactly a year ago to give other people an idea of what I mean by months. Thus this post of ups and downs of twists and turns was born, was created, was dumped into the ether with only a bit of thought behind things being said, being typed, being declared. 

Familiar Landscapes

          For most associates at Harkman Industries the magic hour was five pm on the dot, but this was sadly not the case for Heather Marie Thompson. Her joyful hour of release was six pm instead - if she was lucky that day. Between her own work, playing secretary for a cost effective boss, and pretending to be a cleaning fairy there wasn't enough time in a normal work period to accomplish it all. Fortunately, as cheap as her boss was, this slightly elongated shift business was acceptable so long as it didn't get out of hand and it earned her a slightly higher salary.
          Tonight was beginning to feel like one of those unlucky nights as it was nearly six and she had barely even begun to set up orders that would have to be made promptly in the morning. Setting up orders wasn't bound to take long itself, it just wasn't the only item on her list to get done before she escaped for a night in with a movie and maybe some take out. Sighing, she kept at it, bright purple nails tapping against the surface of her desk when she wasn't busy typing away. This clicking sound was joined on occasion by her singing along to whatever music she was listening to before she would catch herself and cease immediately. A habit she was attempting to break herself of for those hours she had to share the office space with other employees.
          "You have a really pretty voice when you're not mumbling and trying to hide it," Gavin Merlin Watson stated with a smile, shaking Heather out of her work flow.
          "Do not," Heather muttered as she pushed her headphones down around her neck. "Who let you in anyway?"
          "Who wouldn't let me in?" Gavin asked while he put on what he considered to be his most charming smile.
          "Anyone with half a brain sweets," Heather shot back, grinning.
          "Way to insult poor Mildred. She tries so hard you know," Gavin said, chuckling some as he spoke. "You can't fault the dear woman for being such a romantic about us. After all she's the one that matched us up with her cunning ways."
          Heather burst into a small giggle fit over that statement, shaking her head for a moment. "Is that what you told her this time?" She asked despite already being sure of the answer. "You know one of these nights she's going to catch on to your little game right?"
          "Hopefully by then some silly bee will be done keeping me locked away in the lobby like some commoner," Gavin retorted as he swiftly took a step back to avoid a smack he was certain he would receive.
          Heather pushed herself away from her desk to keep up with Gavin's movement. Reaching her target of choice she reached out to gently punch him in the chest. "Fucker," she exclaimed as her fist connected with him, smiling all the while. "You could avoid such a fate by actually waiting to come over when I've told you that I'm done. But nooo, you have to come early to be a troublemaker."
          "It's not causing trouble if they like it. Plus, if I don't come put a smile on your face you would stay here all night. I'm sure your coworkers would love to catch you fast asleep on the job the next morning," Gavin pointed out as he messed up Heather's already disastrous looking hair. "You know my trouble making way is your favorite thing about me. Definitely what caught your eye."
          "In your dreams," Heather declared as she rolled her way back to her desk, ignoring her even more problematic hair situation. "There are better traits of yours to like," she tacked on, her fingers once more quick at work on her keyboard.
          Gavin smirked as he shook his head, the curled ends of his shaggy blonde hair swaying from the movement. "Those talents aren't ones you can tell from a distance Honey Bee."
          "They are ones you can learn from a bathroom stall," Heather was quick to point out, glancing over her shoulder to stick her tongue out at Gavin. "Believe the message was something like for a good time call this number... At least until I cleaned it off."
          "Surprised it didn't say something about breaking hearts. That's how you would really know to trust those crudely written notes." Gavin stated, keeping his position of a short distance away from Heather.
          "Maybe, but it's working out so far, so I'm going to keep riding this wave until it crashed. Maybe some beach dwellers will drown," Heather announced, totaling out her current project. Clicking open the next program she forged onward. "You know you could make this go by faster by cleaning things up instead of just running your mouth."
          Gavin chuckled, leaning back against a nearby desk. "Hey now! That only almost happened once and I was an innocent, curious kid at the time, so pffft." He pointed out as he continued to laugh. Then he fell silent for a few moments as he debated being helpful or staying as just a pest.
          "I believe the curious, innocent kid excuse goes out the winder after you're eighteen hun," Heather called out as she double checked the schedule written out on her screen. Satisfied with everything on it she closed the program out, stealing a glance over at Gavin as she did so. "Such a great smart ass helper," she exclaimed as she stood up and stretched. "Means we can blow this popsicle stand if you're ready."
          "Baby, I was born ready," Gavin declared loudly as he leaped dramatically out from the cubicle area he had been cleaning. "Your curiosity should never die, regardless of age." He added on as he tossed a small bag of trash into the bin next to Heather's work station.
          "Whatever dork," Heather said as she started to pull on her teal wool pea coat. Slender fingers deftly buttoning it up to lock in the warmth. Next she snagged her gray, black, and white plaid scarf, wrapping it around her neck before stuffing it into the front of her coat. Tugging on her white owl hat with one x'ed out purple eye she grinned at her partner in crime.
          Gavin waited in silence, content to observe Heather as she prepared to leave. "Well aren't you a gorgeous, wintry sight Bee."
          Heather turned away from Gavin then, porcelain cheeks heating up to a lovely scarlet hue. "Must have me confused with someone else. I'm just your average snow bunny. Nothing more, nothing less." She managed to eventually stammer out before once again facing Gavin. Slinging her metallic purple purse over her shoulder she headed towards the exit, heels clicking away as she walked. "Come on then, I've been here long enough today," she exclaimed to shift the focus away from her.
          "Yea, yea, I'm coming Bee." Gavin murmured as he fell into step alongside her. Leaping ahead for a moment to push open the door leading to the stairs. "After you my average snow bunny Bee."
          A small smile and a shake of her head were the only indications Heather gave that she had heard him. Taking a few quick steps down she turned to look up at Gavin. "Slow much?" She asked while Gavin continued to hold the door open.
          "Had to let a few ghosts pass on by," he explained, stepping away from the door to let it slam shut. "What's our plan for the evening?" He asked as he caught up to Heather, sliding his right hand into her left one.
          "My plan was some take out Thai food and a movie for a quiet night in," Heather answered, emphasizing the word my.
          "Well, I was going to offer my gentlemanly services for the evening, but if you're going to be like that..." He began, trailing off at the end to provide Heather time to object.
          "Do these ways include paying for dinner? If so I might be able to handle your company for the evening."
          "That's the only way I roll sugar Bee," Gavin stated with a grin, squeezing Heather's hand. Letting go of the aforementioned hand he waited for Heather to unlock the door that led into the office building's central lobby.
          "Mmhm, only way indeed," Heather said with an all knowing smile. Fishing the key out of her coat pocked she unlocked the door that hindered their escape. Nudging it open enough to allow Gavin to slide his right foot into place as a door stopper she locked it back up.

Lost in the Clouds

          Cedric Sayer Davenport had a tendency to get himself lost among the clouds. This was a trait that numerous people believed he would grow out of with age when falling prey to make believe tended to disappear. A belief that his parents strongly held on to during those early years that brought them plenty of conferences and email exchanges with teachers, with the entire school. Instead his moments of being captive in his head only seemed to become worse. It came to a point where prying him away from wherever he went off to back to the present became an abandoned cause for most. For Cedric that was a long awaited and welcomed change in the behavior of the people around him.
          Staring at clouds had once cost him a relationship or two during his last official years of youth. Afterwards word finally traveled up and down the hallways of his school that he was a hopeless cause unless you preferred your boyfriend to be distant, withdrawn. These high school facts failed to travel with him when he left the small town behind for bigger and better adventures elsewhere. Out in the real world of college he became a studious recluse, a shadow hanging around long enough to leave a flickering impression. Thoughts of those years gone by now plagued his time pulled away from the living, leaving him wondering if perhaps he should have worked harder to connect to the world around him.
          "Do you ever wonder what's beyond all of this?" Rebecca Avery Dart asked for what she believed to be the thirtieth time as if continuously repeating herself would generate a response. For most this sort of constant inquiry would unhinge them enough to at least shout at her, but since Cedric had yet to do that the dear girl had gone and made a game out of it. It would end when one of them broke this exchange of noise for silence with Rebecca's bet cast rather heavily on herself being victorious.
          Cedric had been absorbed in himself for the first few times Rebecca asked, the exact amount of which he was uncertain of. At first he wasn't even aware that she had repeated herself until he had opened his mouth to reply only to be met with her inquiring yet again. That had set him up to wait patiently for her to tire of asking like many before her had. Fifteen times later Rebecca appeared to still be going strong, an act of tenacity that surprised him. "Poverty, crime, and hopelessness," he responded finally, giving into that lucky thirtieth time.
          Rebecca clapped her hands in excitement the Cedric finished with his answer, a broad smile on her face. Later on in the day she would probably congratulate herself with an ice cream treat for her victory, but for right now there was a conversation to seize a hold of. "That's around here too though," she countered while she plopped herself down on the grass in front of Cedric. "And that's not what I meant anyway. I'm talking more about beyond our daily grind, hanging out with those whims that most people don't have time for. You know, like, up there with the clouds."
          Cedric looked confused to begin with, the clapping taking him by surprise. A look that persisted on hanging around as he watched Rebecca make herself at home on the lawn area in front of his spot under the branches of a dogwood tree. "The manicured look of perfection could have fooled me," he muttered as he attempted to process the rest of what the strange girl had said. Through the years no one he knew had ever specifically asked him about the clouds and it seemed out of place now for some random person he doubted he would ever see again to do so. "All of the time," Cedric whispered at long last, stretching out his legs from the crossed position they had been in. "I'm still not sure specifically what's there or why it calls to me with such persistence as if it has something important to tell me."

The Same Old Crowd

          "Does this ever get any easier?" Bronwyn Edith Turner asked of the shrubbery planted next to the dimly lit back porch in frustration. "Or am I doomed to be stuck here forever repeating the same damn childish games with the same old crowd?" Another question born of her irked ways for the unresponsive bushes as she used the ivory railing that wrapped around the porch as support for her spinning world.
          Nearby Marcus Gerald Durrel stood quietly to the left side of the open sliding door as a mixture of loud conversations and louder still music drifted out. For now he was content to play the part of the silent observer, having learned the hard way to not speak up during one of Bronwyn's monologues months ago. That first dared interjection had left him with a bruised eye and a spot on Bronwyn's black list for a couple of weeks. From then on it had been decided his dear was not one to share her feelings with an actual person. A trait that he found strange in comparison to his other female companions. Unfortunately for his vow of silence Bronwyn's outbursts and descents into somewhere dark were beginning to become more regular, leaving Marcus stuck on high alert in his mute location.
          "I've heard another drink or two or three helps kill the nerves and makes the same old crowd bearable," said a voice that neither Bronwyn or Marcus could place as someone stepped on to the porch from the illuminated world of the kitchen. The new comer's lips were curved upwards into a smile that Marcus would swear was a permanent fixture on their face due to the level of ease at which it rested there. "At least that's what I've always been told," the stranger added as he extended his right hand to hold out an unopened bottle of Blue Moon for Bronwyn.
          Startled failed to even begin to cover Bronwyn's level of surprise over the surprise over the unrecognized voice. At this point most people knew to let her stumble away from the crowd in peace to wrestle with her inner demons. Even strangers crowded around for a good time had managed to pick up on that unspoken rule. The exception to her no one allowed nearby policy being Marcus the speechless, but he had earned his keep after he survived one of her particularly bad nights and a stint on her bad least. "Who asked you?" Bronwyn spat out eventually as she turned for a moment to snatch up the offered beer.
          At these challenge filled words Marcus tensed up, rocking forward on the balls of his feet to be ready for action. Bronwyn was unlikely to require his assistance, but he was less certain of the unknown's safety. What his comrade lacked in height advantage she more than made up for with a combination of speed and various methods of self defense. A fact he knew to have the tendency to shock some drunkards that made passes at Bronwyn on nights they went out to the city to avoid the same old college crew. Really though most people shared that very same tendency to underestimate Bronwyn.
          "You did. Unless you were expecting the plant life to rise and talk," the newcomer replied, oblivious to the growing tension in the air. As he spoke he took another step out on to the porch, leaving the light that shadowed most of his features. The step and way he talked of the plant life made it clear to Marcus that he had not been noticed yes.
          "Maybe I wasn't looking for an answer." Bronwyn pointed out, doing her best to enunciate each word while keeping a leveled tone. An act that she failed to find easy due to a mixture of intoxication and a growing level of discomfort. Despite this unease or possibly even because of it she finally turned around to face down her foe. Her eyebrows raised for a moment in stunned recognition before she managed to regain her composure.
          "What's the point in asking questions then?" The fellow pressed on, taking a mental note of that swift moment of recollection. Later on he would take longer to sort out his feelings on her remembrance and quick dismissal. He had failed to realize who he had followed on to the porch himself up until he heard questions that he had heard the same girl ask years ago, so really he couldn't find fault in receiving the same treatment.

Eye of the Storm

          The fading light of what had been a sun filled day filtered its way in Sylvia Eliana Belotti's bedroom, barely illuminating anything in it. Luckily that was exactly the way that the twenty five year old preferred it. A preference that she had set down the day that she agreed to look for a place to live with her best friend a couple of years ago. At first it was simply due to her being biased towards the night life, but had since evolved to include making her hectic schedule more tolerable. The added bonus being that her room ended up being the one with the highest noise reduction.
          Today none of that mattered though. Her normally rambunctious best friend had gone home for the holidays, leaving their small house unsettling in its silence. This was a holiday trip that coincided with Sylvia's first vacation in years. Between two full time jobs, volunteer work, and a meager social life the poor girl never let herself take a real day off. Long days that were a constant source of worry for her close friends and family. Worry that she shrugged off with the well known phrase "I'll sleep when I'm dead."
          Fortunately such worries were being put to rest this winter. At least until her vacation ended in a month and her regular life resumed; a concern for the new year. This was time she had hoped to use to catch up on various projects and books, but had since turned into time spent in unexpected territory with one of her male friends. Territory that she didn't entirely mind, just had never entertained the idea of it given where they tended to be in life on the occasions that the could hang out. Him with his long term girlfriend and her with her on and off again flings weren't exactly a matching pair. Yet her second day off had begun with him showing up on her porch at the awful hour of five am looking for a place to stay. Now, a week later, her life seemed very different. 
          "You're a lot like me," Sylvia began to say in a whisper as the two of them continued to lay in bed. Each word coming out slowly as she carefully chose them. Her dark brown eyes were locked on Trenton's face, taking in every detail in the dim light. "Our world is a storm front waiting for the perfect moment to erupt into torrential chaos," she added in way of explanation, these words coming out quicker as the ideas bounced around her head.
          "We're sitting in the eye of what promises to be an intense storm and no one else can see what's coming," Trenton interjected, finishing of Sylvia's thoughts. His light brown eyes flashing a hint of a spark of life for the first time since he had begun to stay with Sylvia.
          Sylvia, in her excitement, clenched on to her Toy Story themed bed spread. Pale hands holding herself back from bouncing up and down on her bed in triumph. Enthusiasm she feared might scare her friend despite her wholehearted belief that it was warranted. "Early warning signs that don't work."

Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

          Sampson Abraham McDaniel was often considered to be the golden boy among his peers. Between an unbreakable optimistic view of the world, perfect grades throughout his college career, what most of his school mates would call a dream job, and a social life most people his age would kill for he certainly fit the bill. To those that never knew him beyond his carefully crafted barriers this portrayed perfection rarely faltered for more than a handful of moments, if at all. However, around his trusted friends his flawless image was, unfortunately, beginning to crumble, to break apart and fade away. A situation his friends were unsure of how to handle due to Sampson's refusal to disclose what was bothering him because he wasn't sure if they would understand.
          At work he could handle everything by keeping himself distracted, but alone at night thoughts of his past would break through. Thoughts that ran continuously through his mind one night that made it difficult for him to finish a trivial report for his family's business, his business. Furrowing his brows in frustration Sampson continued to mindlessly click through various browser tabs and programs as his deep blue eyes barely registered the information on his laptop screen. That was until a familiar name flashed at the bottom of the screen, an event he didn't believe was real. Still, it couldn't hurt to look into it farther he convinced himself after several seconds of hesitation. Sure enough, there she was sitting online, Ruby Olivia Owens; the ghost of his past responsible for his present distracted state. Not that he knew what to do next.
          Just like that her name dimmed out, leaving Sampson alone once more with his memories of her. They were a messy affair now that a couple of years had gone by since their final goodbye. Some days he wasn't even sure if he had imagined most of their time together or not. In fact, he was already beginning to believe his eyes were in cahoots with his mind and playing tricks on him. Then it happened again, the little flash at the bottom of his screen that declared her online status. This time there would be no hesitation from him.
          Swiftly he flicked his wrist to move the mouse on to her name, clicking the tiny green phone icon next to her name. "I miss you," he blurted out the instant he heard the tiny click that signified that she had chosen to pick up his call. The words coming out louder than he had intended, which would be a concern for later if his house mate bothered to bring it up at all.
          "You miss everyone," Ruby countered without a second thought, her coral painted lips curving downwards into a small frown as she spoke. She knew the words in part spoke of a falsehood, used to keep her emotions at bay tonight. His presence online was not one that she had taken into consideration when she had decided to wander online for the first time in months.
          Bullshit and you know it, Sampson thought, a familiar surge of annoyance hitting him as he bit down on his bottom lip. He couldn't rightfully blame her for her harsh words though. Between the time that had passed and the frequency at which he used to have to say those words he was far from an ideal candidate for being believable. That was one of the joys of being raised in a family of high society hell bent on looking perfect; whether you believed it or not you had to say it to keep up appearances. Coupled with Sampson's desire to be the shining example of perfection for his parents he always felt compelled to say those cursed words. "Not the way that I miss you," he whispered into his microphone, allowing a few silent moments to pass to let it sink in before forging onward. "It's everything about you. From the way you smell to that sleepy look of accusation you used to give me when you would wake up and blame me for it to  the quiet way that you used to tell me that you loved me. A part of me is missing with you gone. I want you back and I don't want to lose you... Not again, my heart couldn't take it." There, he laid down a good chunk of his heart on the line to be crushed completely or nurtured back to where it once was. From here on out there would be no turning back.
          Ruby's frown deepened with each whispered word, her heart racing and aching for him much like it used to. Those thoughts belonged to a different time, a different her she reminded herself firmly. Sampson had made the move to disengage, to follow the path that his parents had laid out for him, not her. This heartache belonged to her, never him; she had convinced herself of that moments after their end as she worked to get over him. "Your heart can't take it? What about mine? You let me Sammy Bear, not the other way around. Don't tell me about taking it." She began, each word coated with the anger she had repressed all of those years ago. "If it was true you would have found me before this," she continued on, fighting back tears as she spoke. Her mind wandering back to the memories of a boy that would have done anything in his power for her; what a sham that had turned out to be.
          Ruby's words cut him deep due to the level of truth that resonated with each one. At least that was the case with the part of the story that Sampson knew Ruby had heard. The publicized version he had given her was full of family holes and failed to properly portray the degree of which he had fought against it, protested every part of it. Yet despite all of that there was a glimmer of hope when she had said Sammy Bear. "What can I do to prove to you that I mean every single word of it Ruby Gloom?"
          "Tell me the truth. Not that bullshit your family gave you to memorize. That's the part that stung the most. Standing there listening to you lie and hold shit back from like I didn't know you, didn't know all of your stupid little quirks." Ruby began, digging right into matters. Tears now freely rolled their merry way down her flushed cheeks, making her glad that he couldn't see her. Flashing back for a moment to the first night that she had allowed him to see her cry and how he had softly wiped her tears away before holding her tight long into the morning. "Five years together and at graduation time it came down to mother dearest's wishes or me and it was her all the way with the story being something about fulfilling a dying man's wish to truly learn the family business and something about an arranged marriage ordered to bridge some social gap. Who the fuck does that anymore?" These were words she had said before, at least as far as the content was concerned. She had failed to receive any answers then and sincerely doubted that she would be granted any now.
          Sampson sighed, biting at his already bottom lip more. "Marital obligations are a real thing, especially to my family. Something about strengthening the family tree and expanding their territory. That wasn't sprung on me until months after I had to lose you, but I suspect it was always a part of my grandfather's plan," he started in way of explanation. The words coming out in a rush as he lacked any true idea where he was headed, any idea as to how to say any of it properly. "Grandfather McDaniel was dying, is dead. His wishes lacked specifics about learning the family business. It was more of an ultimatum at the time. Either be cast from the family and any chance of work in my chosen field or leave what he declared to be a hopeless love, doomed to failure if I couldn't provide for you a life of luxury. That was his way of saying you were only into me for my wealth I guess." He added, feeling as if it was a futile explanation of the ways his family chose to operate.
          Ruby allowed the words to wash over her as she tried to piece things together one question at a time. "Did you think I was into you for your money?" She inquired, her voice husky due to choking back tears. Her right hand clenched into a fist to work out some of her tension, to level out her voice.
          Unknowingly Sampson mimicked Ruby's hand tactic as he churned thoughts over. "No, never. You were always out to prove that you didn't need me financially."
          "Then why the fuck did you do it?" She yelled out in question, pulling her fruity pajama covered legs protectively to her chest for comfort.
          Silence followed that outburst as Sampson sunk into his office chair, replaying that last month over and over again like a bad movie in his head. "Family... I know that sounds bad, but that's how it works. I thought I could please him and when he was gone I could come back for you. That's the deal I worked out with my parents." He finally stated, his voice muffled as he rested his face in the palm of his hands.
          "You didn't find me though. You could have told me what was going on and you didn't." Ruby whispered, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Squeezing on to her legs tighter while she picked at the cotton fabric.
          "That was part of the deal with my mother. The less you knew the less likely you were to interfere, so she figured. After his funeral I did try to find you. Your number was disconnected, your parents wouldn't pick up on me, your best friend hated my guts and rightfully so. Still I looked... I went to old hangouts, drove around your home town, but there was nothing... You were suddenly a ghost." Sampson said with conviction, his baritone voice ringing clear with the truth. Starting the week after his grandfather's death he began his search for her, for his true love. While in Ruby's home state he had scoured every location she had every mentioned, had stopped in to pay her parents, who had once adored him, a house call. There was nothing left of her, even her parents had seemed unsure of where exactly she had gone.
          A ghost was an appropriate term for what Ruby had become. The move to being difficult to find had not been intentional, more her way of continuing on with her life plans that had already been mapped out. Fresh out of college, out of playing double duty with employment she had gone out to travel around for a while. Regardless of where she was going traveling was a small passion of hers. At some point she had found a state she adored and moved there without much thought, not even one or two about personally keeping her parents in the loop about her life.
          "They never told me," Ruby finally whispered, attempting to remember how far gone she would have been that first year. Far enough away to be a hard to reach call away from her parents, but close enough to keep in contact with her best friend. "Linette always did hate you more for that than I ever could," she mumbled more to herself than for Sampson's benefit.
          "I don't think Linette approved of me long before that," Sampson contended, unsure of what else to say at that moment.
          Ruby smiled for a split second, unable to argue with that statement. Where she was free spirited and normally quick to love the world her best friend was the opposite. Contrast that worked like a charm for the two of them. Linette would encourage Ruby to stay aware and connect with the real world around her while Ruby aided in the breaking down of Linette's tough outer shell. "When Linette and I moved in together you forgot I was allergic to strawberries and brought over chocolate covered ones as an apartment warming gift. That's when she started to like you as much even though she ate every last one for my safety, so she says."