Time is Precious

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Lying on his stomach after school, he is listening to old Bob Dylan records, propped up on his elbows. The carpet is musty with forgotten laundry, cookie crumbs, dust, modelling clay. Downstairs, the gentle clink of dishes and fizz of butter in a pan, the preparation of dinner.

Scissors

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She had heard of women who cried in salon chairs after shearing off long hair, who sobbed uncontrollably into their smocks while their anxious stylists backed away. But she was not one of those women.

Peacock

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She made him watch pretentious foreign movies, and he made her watch terrible 90s cartoons, and they discussed life and death and God and robots until her boyfriend called and she had to go home.

Honolulu for the weekend

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Huge streetlights illuminated the white froth of the surf, and the air was full of the roar and rush of waves. She took off her shoes and walked along the edge of the water, letting the cool sea whisper over her ankles. Here and there tiki torches cast a flickering golden light over the sand.

Inventory of Things Left Behind

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One jade plant, thriving just to spite me. Last watered 29 days ago. She bought it at one of those corner store florists on Fraser Street, because the owner said it would bring prosperity. I don’t know if it worked or not. Her money always seemed to turn into stationery or pussy willows or pointless knick-knacks.

Wildflowers

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The golden lights and strains of music faded away, and the chatter of voices faded to a murmur. She sat down on a large stone in a grove of magnolia trees. Their huge white blossoms hung grey-blue in the darkness. Every so often a petal fell silently to the ground in a slow, feather-like descent.