lami79

The density wavered in jagged movements that drew out towards the borders of an organic, rectilinear shape.  Our fingers, the chosen ones, met at their respective ends, where fingerprint would crosshatch fingerprint, confusing identity in between.  We were children miming the motions of adults, quoting their language, their words, using their clothing as capes to fly into our own sense of adulthood, maturity.  We ran across time as if it were borrowed, inaccessible to reality, parallel systems that interacted only in surreal moments of passion, disillusionment. I stacked the plates in the kitchen.  She made a soft, coughing sound from the be