Fumbling through a drawer my fingers brush against a familiar plastic object.
I grasp onto the tiny memory card and pluck it from the hiding place.
The card slides into the computer port with a satisfying click.
Click.
A window pops up with long lost folders.
All of the files unrecognizable, with icons indistinguishable from the rest.
I slide the cursor across the screen.
Hovering over a random folder.
Hovering.
Click.
As fast as I clicked the folder, my cursor flew towards the red “X”.
Click.
The folder closed.
My heart raced.
It had been a year.
One long year.
A face I had long tried to erase from my mind was now burned into its forefront.
My fingers pull out the drive.
I throw it into the trash.
Sadness fills my heart.
Her face.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Those features of a ghost were now reborn in my mind.
A ghost.
My ghost.
Am I forever haunted?

He sat on the edge of his bed, the room surrounded by darkness.
The air was cold and harsh, wind blowing through an open window.
Sound crackled from the panel, as lights flashed across the board.
He stood up in a rush, tumbling off his bed.
Blue streams of light swirled in a cylindrical fashion.
The man rose up, staring into the whirling and shapeless light.
A woman's face appeared within the light.
Then her arms.
Chest.
Legs.
She was there.
Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming gently down his cheeks.
The woman began to smile, and cried along with him.
She reached out her hand, in an attempt to brush away his tears.
Her fingers made of light faded across his tear ridden face.
The pixels made no contact with his skin.
They both stood there, smiling, staring into each others eyes.
Seconds turned into minutes, which turned into hours.
As they sat together laughing at a inconsequential event, they both knew it was time.
His hand hovered near her projection, her hand hovered near his.
They closed their eyes and imagined a world in which distance did not matter.
With a hiss the machine came to a halt.
The room was silent.
Darkness once more filled the void.
The man got up and walked towards his bed.
He sat on the edge, and began to wait.

I arrived to class several minutes late, parking was terrible.
Darting between seats, I wandered towards my seat.
There she was sitting across from my seat at the table; the purple girl.
Today she looked over at me and smiled, then resumed listening to the lecture.
Her purple pencil flicked up and down as she passively tapped it against her open notebook.
Her purple shoe flopped loosely against her heel, dangling onto her forefoot.
Her purple hair shone in the  daylight pouring through the window.
After class my brain fought with itself, debating on speaking with the purple angel.
As she arose with her packed purple pouch, I uttered a phrase.
“Your hair looks lovely today.”
I looked away, embarrassed with my not so subtle compliment.
She giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyesight.
“Thank you, I like yours too.”
She wandered out of class with the other students.
Next time I will finally raise up my courage.
For the purple girl.

Flying through the air at speeds unknown.
Eyes closed.
Heart racing.
Traveling to a land riddled with memories of pain.
Is it possible to enjoy the pain?
Joy opens up the soul to more pain.
Eyes open, clouds passing beneath.
The world lives on beneath the massive metal machine.
Humans work on, unaware of the several hundred bodies flying overhead.
Life goes on, joy remains yet a distant dream.
The plane lands.
Life goes on.

Steinbeck wrote of a restlessness many feel.
The urge to run away and find adventure.
To travel, wander, discover, and be free.
Every person has this feeling inside of them, pushing them to escape the boredom of reality.
To roam the countryside.
Surviving with nothing but the clothes on your back and the cash in your pocket.
Is this not living?

Remember.
Relive.
Feel.
Focus.
Write.
Type.
Spell check.
Edit.
Share.
Post

A solar eclipse of angelic proportions stretches across the day sky.
Space and time stopping for just a moment.
Waging factions joining hands for a temporary ceasefire.
To halves are whole for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then they move past, uncoupling again.
The world begins to move again.
Cars drive on, taxis honk their horns, people cross the streets of life.
What seemed so cataclysmic and final; was merely anticlimactic and dissolvable.