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nulle partHe fell, and his world fell with him.nulle part
He stood in line to formulate a complaint. He can’t stop blinking, and the sweat still rests on his forehead.
Stop moving your head. Don’t look around, keep your eyes fixed. Stop swallowing. Purse your lips. Little, superficial breaths. And keep your eyes fixed.
He’s patting his pockets. Something important is still there, and he’s smiling coyly. His long coat gives him a suspicious air. Someone is making a sign toward the teller. “Yes” is the sign that comes back with a nod of the head.
The man in front of me makes a simil
by ~jpwalsh
toujours au seuiltoujours au seuil d’une nouvelle penséetoujours au seuil
***
I stood. And so did she. She wore sunglasses for a reason, and I couldn’t help but to twist my head, and turn my eyes downward.
This was not a love story, and it never would be. Ours was a connection wrapped in a blanket of discontent, inexperience and perceived betrayal.
Betrayal on what count, I wonder. Her smile seems genuine, but there remains a general apologetic air that feels uncomfortable.
“I don’t think this is working…for either of us.”
This seems like one of those clichéd moments that should be hard, but
by ~jpwalsh
tout en recusant ces mainsTout en récusant ces mainstout en recusant ces mains
Personnages :
PYON
Scène :
Silence. Une pomme rouge est posée sur une table au milieu d’une salle vide. Il y a une pendule sur le mur qui n’a que l’aiguille des secondes. Entre PYON. Il regarde à droite.
PYON : Hé...
Silence. Il regarde à gauche.
PYON : Y’a quelqu’un ?
Silence.
Un temps.
Il regarde autour de la salle. Il voit la pendule, puis essaie de vérifier l’heure de sa montre. Il la regarde de nouveau et remarque qu’il n’y a que l’aiguille des secondes. Il a
by ~jpwalsh
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