She knew enough about everything to have a concise opinion of it all and this trait more often than not left him deflated and in love with her. Maybe that's what he had fallen for, not for her really but the state of helpless buffoonery with which she rapt him in every exchange. Could he possibly have some unconscious addiction to sitting in front of her at dinner, looking stupid, feeling stupid, knowing the right words lay just beyond his grasp in the darkened confines of his head? He wondered why he put himself through it. He cursed his inability to see beyond her. He wondered if this was what confused young men blamed on witchcraft for hundreds of thousands of years before him.
Chrysalis, a growing collection of very short fiction.
That Night Filled Mountain
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Unless noted, all pics credited to Skitz O'Fuel.