. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Monday, March 19, 2012

fireplace

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The jazz was funky and flames danced in the fireplace. My beautifully stemmed wine glass seemed to never be empty. It was peaceful there that night, and the laughter left me feeling I was among friends. And so when my tongue began to wag I felt safe, more or less.

My eyes opened to the sight of four strangers about me. I tried to move but for some reason I couldn't. There were no ropes or chains, nothing barring my tongue, yet I could not speak nor move. Was I dreaming, stuck in that in-between place where you can't scream yourself awake? I wouldn't wait long for an answer.
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