Thursday, March 1, 2018

Week in Seven Words #387

Bored, he texts me from the party to list all the places where he could hide from the other guests. The shrubs by the pool provide good coverage. There's room for most of him behind the piano in the den.

I love an early Sunday walk when the light is soft and the streets are mostly empty.

I'm beaten badly by two children at Settlers of Catan. They rob me of all my resources. They laugh as I lose my lumber and ore.

There are different ways of saying good-bye. One is to avoid saying it at all, to turn away at the moment of parting and slip into another room.

She sits in a blanket nest on the bed and frets. I cup her cute bald head in my hand, and she calms.

A sulfurous odor leaks out of the pails of water he's set up in the basement for his plastic animals. He's lined some of the pails with dirt from the backyard, and without knowing it has invited new kinds of organisms into his collection, alive and bacterial.

I don't pay attention to the tendons in my feet, until one of them painfully, insistently reminds me that it exists.