abstract fiction

I did not know I was going to die when I met him.  I did not have the luxury of a decision when I entered the room.  No one told me the consequences of choosing that table next to him, next to my bleak future.  And by the time our eyes met, it was too late.  There was no sense to be made.  There was no vision, no logic, only him and his v-neck sweater. 

Being in love with me was the sweetest sickness, he said, but we were never in love.  And only I knew that.

"I just received the news that you are coming to visit on the 1st.  I couldn't be more pleased."

Couldn't be more pleased...couldn't be more pleased if a steamroller targeted me tomorrow morning.

"It will be very nice to see you again after so long."

I would be nicer if he disappeared, tumbled out of my life as fast as he tumbled in.

Sometimes you find yourself wishing for things you never thought you would wish for -- days to be dark and empty, free from any outside interference.

Purity.

When I am driving, I notice the gas stations and mile markers so that when I get into a painful, disfiguring car wreck I will be able to communicate my location.

"I do not think that as your friend I can let you get a tattoo like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it is tacky.  You will be hideous.  You will regret it."

"Isn't that the point?"