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A Few Short Words

Dense Not Thick

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Habit

Particulate

Stardust and light poured into the shape of a woman, Arris says, ‘Sure, the dust of creation settled and compressed.’ Like diamonds, I suggest. ‘Yep. Trillions of particles forced into form and held together by luck and habit.’ I ask her what the space between is made of. ‘It is the elemental nothing opposing the desire to be something.’ Moving us like magnets. ‘Invisible repulsion.’ Attraction. ‘Compulsion,’ she says and winks. Beyond the eye of measure one star blooms and another wilts. But how did we come to be from dust? She tells me, ‘That’s a matter of time.’

Habitual

Mikey puts out the roach and reaches to roll another. He must have seen me watching because he starts to extrapolate. ‘It’s not the drugs, you understand, it’s the habits. I could lose one if I could keep the other but they’re part of the same whole and there’s wholly nothing good enough to replace them.’ I don’t know what to say, I’ve been here with him for every high, I understand the restriction of want and banality of restraint, I just don’t get why he’d think I’d care. I tell him, I’ll roll the next one after this.

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