I sat down, turning the pages of my notebook in search of a blank page, in the dim light of my room. The arrival of nightfall had invited leafy shadows to play hide and seek in the glass reflection of the window. I smiled as one of these mischievous shadows crept across the page in a midnight dance.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyThe last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who tripped over a glass container of sugar that I had myself dropped...after, of course, having received several bruises from an attempt to retrieve a flip-flop that had somehow ended up in the sink.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyHe knew. There was no need for small talk.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyAnd yet the great blue sky was above me and my eyes thirsted for its words.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyNo, thank you,” he flashed that grin of his. “I’ve been wondering what the lair of a poetry-inclined psychologist looks like.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyOdd is a compliment,” he continued, his eyes twinkling, “whereas weird is an insult.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyOnce again, she speaks in another language when things get awkward.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyThe fleeting moment became Whole.
Gina Marinello-SweeneyThere is an unspoken pact between best friends that stipulates the following:
To induce laughter, all you have to do is look at your partner-in-crime—even in the absence of said crime.
I heard the waves tumbling in a chorus of doves, inviting me to take part in their vision. A vision from Beyond.
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