- Ear buds under the pillow.
- The stubborneness of the gray.
- Cold feet.
- The unpicking of the legal language that made false the true things I had said.
- How the car reads my phone's mind to play the music I had been listening to.
- She says the neighbor was barbecuing when she went home for lunch and that's why her hair smells of smoke.
- Needles and silver foil emergency blankets.
- The calypso beat of the mood music takes me to the water.
- The guy up next dozes in the lounge.
- He's got a job mapping the burned food stuffs from the dig in Azoria. This is the joy of it.
Telling: Streams & Logs