Hiccups 1

Author's Note: I like writing these few sentence pieces, that I call hiccups. They eventually work themselves out into already established pieces, or become new pieces on their own.


1] I kicked a smashed cigarette bud into a puddle of water. There it joined a growing pile of ash and tan mush. I tried to speak but my thick German accent irritated him. He shushed me, corrected my awkward speech. All of the English nuances frustrated me. Harry said I’ll get the hang of American life soon.


2] He flipped a page. There was a click. Another page. Another click. And again. Again, again.
He stopped smoking years ago, but the smell still lingered. Everything lingered, he learned; ghosts of time, energy left behind to be picked up by those who were meant to touch it.


3] Even the most tender demon has a poison tongue. They said they were friends of his. That wasn’t entirely untrue. He went on ignoring them.


4] He was curled up in the comforter on his bed, listening to the quiet whirring of his lover's breath as it trailed softly over the pages of the magazine he was reading.


5] Her face burned, the heat radiating off it in waves, spreading outward, scalding anything it touched, falling backwards to burn the very skin it came from. Her murmurings and fits didn't cease. He placed his lips against her forehead, letting the sensitive skin feel the warmth of her sickness.
She stilled at his kiss.
'How very cliche' he thought, as he stroked her cheek, feeling the heat even through his clothed hands. He wished her better, for the thought of her sick and lying nearly lifeless on this bed scared him, but the possibility of living without her fiery arguments, defiance, and confidence frightened him nearly to death.