Friday, November 23, 2012

Week in Seven Words #146

The office park is a tidy warehouse for people, with a view from each window of asphalt and bare trees.

I'm in the passenger seat a lot, watching the world coast by past the window. I can't remember the last time I was behind the wheel.

There's a meeting house feeling to the room, all of us in chairs along the white walls as people take turns sharing stories and thoughts.

Escaping from the depths on the back of Beethoven's 9th.

He doesn't understand that "1" isn't a difficult number to get when rolling a die, that you've got as much of a chance of landing on it as any of the other numbers. He insists that if he curls his fingers a certain way when he touches the die, he'll get it. Once he's made up his mind, he forgets about all the times the die doesn't land on 1 and remembers only when it does.

On Hangman she cheats, uses her best friend's nickname.

The trees catch the light in their leaves and throw it at you in a blaze.