I ran the glass over my lips, spreading the burn of the lingering liquid, and pulled out a black sweater that would be demure if not for the particular interplay between its semi-deep V and my own advantages.
You. Bastard who rose high in the world. Humble. Kind. Primal. Loyal. Beautiful. Master of Longclaw. Destroyer of White Walkers. Friend to the lost and fat and cowardly. Lover to Wildling. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And, for now at least, King In The North. You command all of our attention.
Alyssa was a cocktail waitress. A tall, thin woman whose prowess in the art of seduction bordered the fine line of black magic; she used full lips and gentle curves to usher an orphan into her twisted maternal grasp.
After years of tumultuous marriage, Mom and Dad are finally splitting up. Mom has been apartment hunting and Dad’s all packed up. On top of that, they caught me smoking weed this morning and are furious about it.
Every night, I would say buona notte as I left, searching his eyes for recognition. You’re still here, I’d think. Don’t go yet. On the last night when he was still speaking, he said it back to me, quietly, as I left the room. Buona notte.
Lightning flickers around faraway mountaintops, thunder plays a sweeter symphony with the rain’s percussive accompaniment. Nature’s music overwhelms me; the beauty in it has escaped me for my first decade of life.
I plop down on the carpet as the familiar Star Wars opening crawl takes over the TV screen, filling me in on events that occurred a long, long time ago. 4000 years before Episode I. Whoa. That was unexpected. That must be the “old” in Old Republic.
The soft, thick leather of the steering wheel begged for a gentle touch; the engine's natural rumble was backed up by Audi's turbocharged powerplant; and the 505-watt Bang & Olufsen sound system bumped harder than anyone would ever need.
Sometimes stories have the ability to go far beyond entertainment. They become ingrained in the very fabric of our lives, just because they were there at the right time.
Finally, it was home. It was us. We made ourselves feel comfortable despite the circumstances. I thought no one could take away the feeling of home. Then again, things happen. That’s where you come in.
It’s a New York spring morning: hazy, dim, quiet. From the bottom of the staircase I hear these new sounds: wailing, then choked silence, then gasping for breath. It is 6 in the morning and my mother is in tears.
All the while, I kept saying to myself, This should be legal everywhere! It's a miracle drug! It was much better than taking opiates and ruining my concentration, or taking nothing, and just riding the bad times out.
They loved Frank Sinatra and cigarettes and bell-bottoms and platform shoes and sneaking out in the middle of the night and being all kinds of Dazed & Confused. Absolutely brilliant.
Mark gazes upon that tight body of yours as it threatens to jump out of the latex suit, a second skin tailored to follow your perfect curves and insanely long legs. Your eyes are a cheeky promise nested behind black-framed glasses. You even have a sexy little birthmark on your chin, which gives you the look of an adult film actress.
I had tried to imagine making the first move, but my brain had stuttered and stalled. Would I be able to put my face so close to someone else’s without flinching, years of training in respecting personal space flooding my head?