The Great Sea Quellin and Other One Chapter Average Stories
Dream of the Dove
It could have even been a paper airplane, I wouldn’t have cared. It was a joy in the calm night, stomping around for the flight’s end. There was peace and voice in the air. Maybe I could’ve laughed more, but my contentedness kept me on the glide of the foam plane. It was held tightly together with duct tape as black as the sky, as black as my shirt. The rush of creating a flying life brought up heart in the way I walked with a skirt about my waist. Whenever he smiled through the dark lighting, my chest brightened, and as he tried to calm me with a voice reserved for children, the anger he summoned I forced back down.
Our case contrasted that of the promiscuous girl and a boy on the edges of the grass, the frantic girl pacing the bench the boy was sitting on. I heard him saying he was so done, while the girl was uttering back excuses. They were having a troubling time, and their situation was filled with anxiety I could perceive when the craft landed near them.
But I would raise it and step away, breath in the warm nectar of wind, and bring my right arm back over my head, hoping of the longest sweep through the dark.
Our case contrasted that of the promiscuous girl and a boy on the edges of the grass, the frantic girl pacing the bench the boy was sitting on. I heard him saying he was so done, while the girl was uttering back excuses. They were having a troubling time, and their situation was filled with anxiety I could perceive when the craft landed near them.
But I would raise it and step away, breath in the warm nectar of wind, and bring my right arm back over my head, hoping of the longest sweep through the dark.