May the destroyers of our world rain their cosmic force upon you! Seriously speaking, this is a place from which I get to both curse and praise the world without actually affecting it in any physical way.


Arranged Attraction

The day was but a day until the high heels clacked on the asphalt. Brad turned around, and did his best not to turn anymore. The sun became a halo surrounding her, obliviating all but her slender waist. Then she stepped beneath the trees and her soft eyes glowed green like the leaves above.
Brad stepped forward, averting his eyes from her charming hairclip the way all men grew skilled at lest they alienate half the human race. ‘You captivate me,’ he said.
She jerked in surprise, retrieved an errant strand from her face. ‘Excuse me?’ Drenched in sunlight, his eager face shaped itself to propel his words. ‘No, say nothing. That was a stupidity.’
‘I could scarcely care less for the minor mistake,’ he said. He stepped forward with arms outstretched, escorting her further into the shade where they might see one another better.
‘I guess you wouldn’t,’ she replied. ‘Actually, you appeal to me as well.’
‘Great. Shall we have a relationship?’ he asked.
‘Become a couple? What are the terms?’ she asked.
'That we be open with one another, in mind, body and soul. The romantic adventures of man and woman are often fraught with pitfalls. Granted the human race numbers billions of individuals and the potential for variation is enormous, so two partners are probabilistically never precisely compatible with one another,’ he said.
‘True,’ she agreed. ‘Even if they are, my scone, constant exposure to each other’s differences over the years wears down their patience. Quarrels erupt faster than volcanoes four point six billion years ago.’
‘We have chosen well, for we are as reflections in an imperfect mirror. I enjoy being called “scone”, though I wonder why not “sugar” or similar terms,’ he added.
'Individuality. I happen to savour scones, the puffy crumbly feeling as you eat them,’ she said.
‘How about it? I confess my faults and shortcomings to you for forgiveness, and you to me. Like a pregnant mother aspiring for aptitude at meditation, shall we also practice these communication methods to ease the birth of our time together.’
‘You tease me. The mother is always the female. Do I take on the bulk of the responsibility?’ she asked, her lip glinting under a sunbeam penetrating through the canopy.
'Tell me what you desire, in accordance with the conditions,’ he said. ‘Myself, I currently find completion holding your body against mine own.’ Her head swirled as the heady odours of his maleness and crisp leaves of the leaf litter made their way up her nose.
‘No complaints, scone,’ she replied, and they fell to a crackling.

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