One Hundred and Thirty Four

You could kill me really easily like that, I tell him, and a second later, What the fuck? inside my head. I really should think before I speak. All I meant was, with his arm around my shoulder and his hand cupping my chin, it wouldn’t take much force at all, should he so decide, to snap my neck and leave me dangling, limp and lifeless, in the crook of his elbow.

One Hundred and Twenty

I was flying over the beach the other day when it occurred to me that while I truly delight in being the only human capable of unaided flight, it does get a little lonesome sometimes, way up there in the wild blue yonder, with the horizon close enough to touch and the salt spray of the sea so invitingly fresh, and all the people so far down below. I wave too often.