Estlin rolls over and puts his arm around Isabelle. He squeezes her close to his body. He kisses her head, as she moves to get out of his embrace. “Stop,” she mumbles. “I’m trying to sleep.” Estlin sighs and rolls out of bed. It is noon already and he can hear the noise and music …
She sits alone at the bar and thinks how she’s an archetype lyrical subject for phony romantics, men mostly, with scruff faces and long oily hair constantly tucked behind flaky ears and beneath hundred dollar camel hair hats that every hopeful idiot wears and strums an old Washburn in his room at midnight while the …
I kept a pet-name for Kendall Falling in my mind; The Wide-Eyed Girl. Eyes that glistened and bounced around like bold, brown pinballs. Those eyes searched over the cityscape and all therein; the passing motor cars and trucks, the glass and mortar towers, the walks and don’t walks, the hosed-over early morning sidewalks, the bodies …
hceversole 