The ball

The ball hits the water. Little drops ascend into the air, while the ball kissed the ground and bend to return.

At first there was the plastic box. I opened the window and watched the plastic shatter on the ground into a thousand pieces revealing nothing, briefly stuck in mid-air before coming to rest on the concrete. The books followed, their pages fluttering in the wind. For a moment I see them in my hand, I feel the grass. The water is soaking through them fast, rendering its knowledge forever useless. I take a special delight in this. I feel the necessity of my destruction, the elevation through rain and brute force. I imagine the keys on my keyboard forming one last sentence before they die. A last call to the rest of its contents, which already stopped breathing.

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When I was five, I learned how to die.

Now, I am watching the girl on the other side. I like her. I know this, because my heart is beating a little bit faster. Brown hair, strict eyes behind glasses, blue. She looks at me and smiles. The gesture moves through her, the flow of lips and eyes. I smile back. I won’t do anything more.

And then, she and I, we lived together for a year by chance. We were roommates, we liked each other. I even love her, although I still don’t know what that means.

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