Station’s Own

February 28, 2013 § Leave a comment

3 Hours

The steel chair pulled the warmth from his thighs through his slacks. He used the palms of his hands to lift himself just enough to slow the process. Mike was sitting too, waiting.

“I built this city with my bare hands you know.” the man said lowering his buttock to the chair and adjusting his tie. “I put nail to board and built this city, hell, I am the fucking nail that fastens this city together!” he shouted. Mike looked down at his feet.

“What is it that you want me to say?” Mike insisted. The man calmed himself.

“When I was a young man there wasn’t more than a few hundred people living here.” he said. “At the time, it seemed I worked harder than a mule. The Station was the Fertile Crescent then. Everything we needed was at our finger tips. Now…”

2 Hours

An unknown man walked through the doors. Mike stood up from his chair in alert. The unknown guest whispered into Mike’s ear, handed him something a package left. Mike opened the foil wrapping.

“Here.” Mike handed over the peanut butter and honey sandwich to the man. Within moments it had disappeared. The man licked his fingers of the excess peanut butter and dripping honey as he inhaled a deep,  disparate breath.

The door opened a second time. She walked in, eyes red and filled with fear.

“What are you doing here?” the man spoke with swollen eyes.

1 Hour

As the man and his wife embarrassed each other for the last time, exchanging few words, the two parted; neither feeling more in love with each other than ever before.

“He’ll be here in a minute.” Mike said.

As the man waited for the priest to arrive he planned out exactly what he was going to say.

‘If we are made in GOD’s image then is my sacrifice here holy? I am not perfect and no man is. Tell me, can I take comfort knowing my chapter ends here so long the rest of the world’s begins?

60 Seconds

Mike reached for the ear piece in his ear. “They’re ready for you Congressman.”

Quick Hand

February 27, 2013 § Leave a comment

Ashton sat at the better end of the table. The side that wasn’t sticky with whatever.

“Would you say your easily manipulated?” he asked the other man.

“Depends”, said the man.

“Depends on what?” Ashton responded.

“It would depend on whether or not they get away with it.”

Reserving judge…

February 26, 2013 § Leave a comment

Reserving judgement is a matter of infinite hope.

To the Carraway in us all.

Where Am I?

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