Tuesday, April 5, 2011


It is how we speak, ya' know. I mean you've had a five year plan for the last six years.

He smiles, nods, looks down and walks away.

I turn, walk back to my desk, begin the task at hand which leads to another and another and another until it is time to stop. Driving home I fill the space with a loud beat attempting to change pace, mark an end but it all feels the same because the only constant in my experiment is me.

Still Circa 2000 by Josh Miller

She is living in an abandoned building, sleeping on a floor. I knock twice and turn to leave. Back at the car I begin the note.

It is me, you remember.
I am here for someone who can't be.
Call me.
The number is

I hear a door open and close. Footsteps then her face. Her arms are crossed when she comes into view but she visibly loosens when she sees me, Shea Goff, what are you doing here?

Writing a note, I say as I wad up the paper and throw it in the car. I walk over and give her a hug, It's great to see ya'. Nice place you have here.

She hugs back, Oh please. I hate this place. I want out of here.

I step back, assess the situation, lean against the car, listen to the hype. She looks the same and I don't know what I expected but I guess I never thought about it.

Man, if I could just get outta here, she says, Go anywhere, just not here.

I smile then laugh.

What's so funny? she asks.

I've thought that before, I say. The only thing that stops me is I know I'll follow myself there.

She smiles, nods, looks down, Yeah I know.


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