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Love on a Midsummer Night

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Christy English

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“Mi-am conturat o lume imaginară încă de când te-am cunoscut. Lumea mea te viza pe tine, în diverse momente din viață, iar în toate momentele mă țineai de mănă mândru și încrezător în viitorul nostru. N-am să neg vreo secundă că nu te-am dorit din prima clipă în care mi-ai zâmbit. Ești conștient de farmecul pe care-l ai și mizezi pe asta când vine vorba de femei. Poate mă grăbesc puțin cu afirmațiile, însă nu mi-e rușine să recunosc adevarul. Sunt un om deschis și sincer care așteaptă același tratament. Nu-mi promite cuvinte fără sens, sentimente pe care nu ești capabil să le trăiești, ori povești de iubire fără conținut. Nu-mi promite nimic din ce nu ești dispus să oferi. Și dacă vrei să-ți dau voie să-mi fii alaturi, trebuie doar să mă iubești, iar eu îți promit că voi fi ca umbra; alături de tine toată viața.”

“Scott could feel the contents of his stomach flip over and over on themselves. He turned to the side and retched, frothy yellow bile spilled out onto the newspaper covered floor, filling the room with the putrid stench of previously ingested alcohol. 'Look's like someone can't hold their drink,' McBlane said, and Dominic and Shugg laughed. Scott was still staring at the steam rising from his evacuated stomach contents as he heard the hammer fall. The dull crack of bone splintering under its weight.”

“The eastern sky was red as coals in a forge, lighting up the flats along the river. Dew had wet the million needles of the chaparral, and when the rim of the sun edged over the horizon the chaparral seemed to be spotted with diamonds. A bush in the backyard was filled with little rainbows as the sun touched the dew. It was tribute enough to sunup that it could make even chaparral bushes look beautiful, Augustus thought, and he watched the process happily, knowing it would only last a few minutes. The sun spread reddish-gold light through the shining bushes, among which a few goats wandered, bleating. Even when the sun rose above the low bluffs to the south, a layer of light lingered for a bit at the level of the chaparral, as if independent of its source. The the sun lifted clear, like an immense coin. The dew quickly died, and the light that filled the bushes like red dirt dispersed, leaving clear, slightly bluish air. It was good reading light by then, so Augustus applied himself for a few minutes to the Prophets. He was not overly religious, but he did consider himself a fair prophet and liked to study the styles of his predecessors. They were mostly too long-winded, in his view, and he made no effort to read them verse for verse—he just had a look here and there, while the biscuits were browning.”