This will hurt me...

A Brave New World. It turns out that he was really a girl, and she was at heart a boy. Naturally, this meant things became complicated reasonably quickly. Rather than get caught up in the “He said, She said” (or, for that matter, the “(S)he said, s He said”), they agreed upon a catch up to clear the air. “What do you want to do?”, He said. “What do you want to do?”, She said. “I need coffee”, She said. He nodded, and she sighed. “I don’t really like the coffee here”, He said. So She took her bag and left.

Water jets in Franklin Square, Winter '09 . Theme Thursday today, and what a task I have! The theme is RHYTHM, so I set myself the goal this morning of penning a lightning fast drabble on today’s them on my way to work on the bus this morning. Alas, my trusty notebook was elsewhere! Thus, I fished out a receipt from the fresh fruit market in Salamanca [APPLES GRANNY SMITH SML KG], and set about squeezing out 100 words on the back. I’m glad to say that I had the requisite number done and dusted by the time I hit the bridge and was able to dip back in to Dame Rebecca West’s interesting little tale The Return of the Soldier . Let’s take the easy way out and call this one RHYTHM . The rhythm of their relationship was a familiar one. He worshipped her, she loathed him. He adored her, she was disgusted . He would whisper the sweetest, gentlest paeans of his affection into her lovely ear as they made love, and she would shun his offerings a cat might a command. When he arrived home, h...