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Description
His eyes were empty rooms as he looked at her.

"You killed this love," he said, "the least you could do is help me bury the body."

She walked away, in search of coffee.

The car cruised on, growling cruel victory into the cold night air. The blood ran and pooled in blind
exodus, the smell of gunpowder mingling with that of the still burning cigarette that lay beside him.
The blood would reach it soon, and the smoldering ember would be extinguished, as if in imitation
of it's would-be consumer, now consumed.

The concrete never noticed.

The gray cat sat in it's tiny cage, listening to the mewling of the others. Sometimes people would
come and look at them all, often taking one with them when they left. But the gray cat had long
since ceased to hope that this would happen to her. Once a girl had even taken her out of her cage
and held her for awhile, but after a few minutes the girl had returned her to her cage and chosen
another, younger cat. Her instincts told her she was in trouble, but instinct offered no egress.
So she lay with her head on her paws, restless and waiting, watching the people as they paced
before her, looks of pity and scrutiny skirmishing upon their faces. Eventually a woman came and took
the gray cat from her cage, carried her down the hall and through a door that was not the exit.

Then the woman came back out again.

The star twinkled on for eons, alone. No planets danced around the radiant heart, no children close
or distant, the silent void into which it spilled it's light defining solitude. In time it dimmed and shrank,
ancient introversion yielding integrity beyond comprehension and without witness. Collapse, when it
came, was instantaneous, the temporal comparison to the duration of it's life intolerant of speculation.

One among many

Isolated

Transcending to singularity.

She sipped her coffee. The mellow cream and rich sweet bitterness
worked their magic and she sighed deeply.

Why couldn't he understand?

Sometimes you just need to be alone.

Description
His eyes were empty rooms as he looked at her.

"You killed this love," he said, "the least you could do is help me bury the body."

She walked away, in search of coffee.

The car cruised on, growling cruel victory into the cold night air. The blood ran and pooled in blind
exodus, the smell of gunpowder mingling with that of the still burning cigarette that lay beside him.
The blood would reach it soon, and the smoldering ember would be extinguished, as if in imitation
of it's would-be consumer, now consumed.

The concrete never noticed.

The gray cat sat in it's tiny cage, listening to the mewling of the others. Sometimes people would
come and look at them all, often taking one with them when they left. But the gray cat had long
since ceased to hope that this would happen to her. Once a girl had even taken her out of her cage
and held her for awhile, but after a few minutes the girl had returned her to her cage and chosen
another, younger cat. Her instincts told her she was in trouble, but instinct offered no egress.
So she lay with her head on her paws, restless and waiting, watching the people as they paced
before her, looks of pity and scrutiny skirmishing upon their faces. Eventually a woman came and took
the gray cat from her cage, carried her down the hall and through a door that was not the exit.

Then the woman came back out again.

The star twinkled on for eons, alone. No planets danced around the radiant heart, no children close
or distant, the silent void into which it spilled it's light defining solitude. In time it dimmed and shrank,
ancient introversion yielding integrity beyond comprehension and without witness. Collapse, when it
came, was instantaneous, the temporal comparison to the duration of it's life intolerant of speculation.

One among many

Isolated

Transcending to singularity.

She sipped her coffee. The mellow cream and rich sweet bitterness
worked their magic and she sighed deeply.

Why couldn't he understand?

Sometimes you just need to be alone.