January 2011
5 posts
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
Muse
He slumps against the keys. The dissonant clash would wake him, except that he is utterly spent.
His tired mind can’t even be bothered conjuring up a backdrop for his dream. He only knows that he is dreaming, and there is just inky black space. Not a very good dream, then.
Not that she ever needs a backdrop. She never has asetting, not really. She stands apart from her surroundings...
2 tags
The First Story
She’d never heard of him before. He said that he was getting “kind of big” on the music scene, and and that she’d probably know his stuff if she heard it.
She nodded politely that she probably would, and smiled at him the way she smiled at waiters who brought her food. She hated to pretend.
He reminded her of a cat she used to have when she was little. She remembered it...