You walk into that new shop on the corner. You've never seen it before. It's inviting store windows and beautiful exterior pull you inside. What are they selling?

words.

"How much for this word?" you ask.
"well" says the cashier. "All the words are free, but the value comes in how you use them."
"I don't understand," you say. "How do I use this one?" You hold up the word 'love'.
"Be careful with that one. It's special." says the cashier.
"How many do you have in stock?" you ask.
"Infinite." says the cashier.
You look at him quite confused now, wondering why it's so special if they're all free and there are infinite amounts of them.
"The more you use the words the less valuable they become."
You give him a very puzzled look and begin backing away to the door.
"Where are you going?" he asks. "This is all yours. This whole store is full of your words."
"Just mine?" you ask.
He nods.
"What about your words?" you ask. "Where are they?"
"Oh," he says. "You don't want any of those."
He looks down as if he is studying the back of his hand, his eyes seem to glaze in thought.
"Maybe I do. May I see them?" you ask.
then he tells you,

    "My words are like an old worn out pair of shoes, my words have walked many miles but have been barely noticed, only to wash up onto a beach somewhere and be found a child and a mother telling them not to play with the garbage. I could be screaming the words and it would sound like a whisper, but even a whisper is noticed and told to hush by adults. Whispers float through hallways but are always paid attention to, regardless of their value, but my words are the cold, dead, silence of an empty house and the bottom of a swimming pool."

Unsure of what to say, you give him a sympathetic glance, "I'm sorry."
but right as you say it the words skid off the shelf and shatter onto the floor, and every lie you've ever told piles on top of it, and you realize you are no better than you neighbor, yet--

You try to help him pick up the pieces.
"Leave it," he says. "I thought you were different."
You wonder what it is you did wrong, so you decide to leave.  Just as you're about go, he turns ask you something this time.

"Can you hear me?
I'm talking.

Are you listening?"

"Dude who keeps doing this?" I say in my head as I rummage through the never ending boxes of nails in aisle 15, the last bay at the end of the aisle on the right hand side. Boxes and boxes of nails, different finishes and colors, red, blue, green, yellow, gray, finish nails, drywall nails, UGH too many for me to care about. Anyway, they're always out of order, flipped upside down and thrown in disarray. It's our job as "loyal Lowes employees" to make sure everything is straight and tidy in the aisles. I know...fun right? As you can tell I'm always ecstatic about doing my job. Aside from the sarcasm, there is one thing I can't stop thinking about, and she's all the way on the other end of the store. Her name's Anika...she's about 5 foot 3,  with gorgeous glowing brown eyes that she guaranteed hates (because everyone with brown eyes does), incredible dark brown hair that she wears down and straightened, falling just past her shoulders and always shimmering of course, pale white skin, but not too pale...just a soft white tone, and sometimes she does this thing with her eyes where she wears a sparkling silver shadow over her lids, that just makes her sparkle even more than she already does. One time, I was standing at the door, greeting people and being goofy and awkward as usual, thinking about how long I'd been standing there and couldn't bare to be there any longer, just as I was about to say I couldn't take it anymore and go switch with someone, along she came...I cracked some stupid joke which she actually laughed at, and I noticed it then...that incredible silver shimmer as she passed, and it just made my stomach sink that much further. Of course too the doors opened right when she passed so that her silky hair flew to the sides like a friggin model. ANYWAY! All I wanted to do was find a way to talk to her, without looking like a creep or a tool and just bumbling my way over there without a plan, and probably just saying hi and asking how she liked Lowes so far...for the fifth time. "Maybe I can go check over there to see if there are sales tags I can take down, or maybe some of her departments returns are mixed in with mine, and I can bring them to her". Brainstorming my plans as I'm rummaging through these forsaken boxes of nails, that the same disturbing old men always ask for. I hear footsteps behind me and think "oh what do ya know?" I'm so sick of it by this point that I don't even turn around to ask if he needs help. They get closer and stop..."hey!" Says a soft, familiar voice. My eyes widen and my stomach jumps, shocked, relieved, and beyond thankful all at the same time. I get up to face her and respond "hey!" with an inviting, yet shy smile. "I was just walking by earlier and I noticed you have music tattoos...do you play anything?" My night is instantly made, and I'm hit with the most overwhelming feeling of "finally" I've ever gotten. "Yeah! I actually play guitar, piano, and sing. Are you into music too?" I ask intrigued, but trying hard not to sound too overly nice or overly anything that would ruin this perfect moment. "*** that's awesomeee, yeah I actually play the flute and I'm really into music too. Who do you listen to?" We continue talking for at least an hour, just talking back and forth about music, our hobbies, school, friends, and only scratching the surface. "Attention Lowes associates, the time is now 9:55, lowes will be closing in 5 minutes. Please make sure to bring your trash to the back, iPhones to the front, and make sure there are no customers in your area." "Ugghhh" she exclaims, "well, I better head back. Hey! Do you have a Facebook? Is it alright if I add you? That would be awesome to send you a couple links from the band I was telling you about earlier." I'm warm, floating, trying so hard not to burst from this feeling inside. "*** yeah definitely! That would be sick! What's your last name?" I respond, in disbelief. "Alright!! It's conti, c-o-n-t-i. I'll talk to you after then!" She says with her calm, but fierce smile, and turns around, and hurries back to her department to close out for the night. As I'm left alone, at the end of aisle 15, in a lowes. However, at the same time, I don't feel alone...but instead, full of hope, full of butterflies that can't be contained, with a smile on my face that feels almost as good, as hers looks.

He grew up just him and his poor mother
No sweet sister, no rough and tumble brother
His Dad was M.I.A.
It happened in the usual way

But he didn't care
A cub never needs a father bear
His mother sufficed
Taught him wrong from right

He had it all figured out
He knew without a doubt
He had watched the rich kids laugh and joke
While in property he wallered and choked

So he studied hard and got good grades
In college he didn't party, never went to any raves
Got a corporate job, had a 3 figure income
He had money to pay bills, buy cars and then some

He took care of his mom till she passed away
He learned a great lessons on that rainy gray day
Money couldn't stop his mom from dying
Grown men where not above crying

The years quickly passed, he was married to his job
To those less fortunate he was a snob
On the streets he never gave the bums a secound look
If they had only took a page out of his book

He thought money was the way to happiness
Those he thought of as sad always had less
He had forgot about the lesson of the stone with it's dashes
Then the day came when the stock market crashes

He should of invested his time in a family
Instead of that money tree
For soon all his money was gone
Things in his life was going all wrong
His job disappeared, along with his home
Soon on the streets he had to roam

Now he was one of the despised
But on the streets he truly grew wise

Through hardship he found true friends
The ones that would help you to no end
For they know the pain of need
There was never any thought of greed

He was astonishingly amazed
That even with the poverty that he was grazed
He was happier now
Than chasing that cash cow

A good woman found him
His future then didn't look so grim
Years passed and they married
Over thier rundown apartment threshold, her he carried
Soon it was babies in his arms
He truly knew now his vision of life had been wrong

Now he knew
Where it was that happiness grew
In the hearts of ones you loved and cared for
Being rich or being poor was both a chore
It's all just clatter
Unless to someone else you matter

It was one of those days
when nothing else seemed to matter
but him and me.
We strolled around campus
with his hand in mine,
guiding me through the heat.
"Hold on," he interrupted. "Have you ever
written a piece about me?"
"Yes." I have written
a thousand pieces for you, I thought.
"I'd like to read one.
Why haven't you shown me any?"
I shrugged.
Because none of them
do your vibrance justice.

I just took a wrong turn going to church
Ended up down by the old white birch
So I decided to sit down there at it's roots
And up to my shoulder scurried a little newt
I liked the little fellow
Until in my ear it started to bellow
Why are you doing that I asked
He said not a thing just pulled out his flask
He motioned for me to drink
And before I could think
I took a big swig
And before I knew it I was dancing a jig
The swirling and twirling brought me down to my knees
The limbs in the tree moved with the breeze
And before long I started to wheeze
What Mr. Newt what have you done
Don't worry dear with us you are becoming one
So scurry on up here and sit on the branch
By day we watch at night we dance
None of this has happened by chance
You wished for it, now it is so
Back to your life you no longer have to go

The moon beams glistens and bounces off the cold gray tomb stones
I glide silently between them, I let out a few soft moans

The moon's so bright it throws shadows off all the leafless trees
Their bony fingers reach out and dance in the breeze
At every stone I carefully read each name and date at either end of the dashes

Everyone of them, their lives where nothing more than flashes
Like the flickering flame of the lanterns glow
Their life away from them just flowed

My midnight stroll was almost over
Knowing they where all at peace under that cover of clover
I looked on their last resting place with wistful eyes
This feeling of wanting couldn't be disguised

As the wind whistles and dies
The north wind crys
A cold chill runs through my spirit
Voices surround me, although I don't want to hear it

For I'm just a vapor, a mist
Miserable in life I slit my wrist
Now I'm a simple ghost
More restless than most

I lift my head to watch the midnight flight of the raven
I feel so cheated, death did not even offer me a safe haven
Death would not let me lay peaceful in the ground
But pointed it's bony finger, and said "go roam around"

Sadness is still my existence, just a different plain
Still the same old sharp dull pain
I'm a restless ghost, flames being held to my feet
Now when you catch sight of me among the stones you'll know why I weep
Because for me there will never be that eternal sleep

I stare into the room,
A wreck on a stone step,
Eyes strained, peering inwards.

“Oh don’t worry, nothing else is living here.
Please come in.”

Beckoned by a shawl,
Inhabited by a face that is never remembered,
Into a front room where the shadows had shadows.

I hesitate to sit,
Then the cold pours through me
As something moves
Deep
Within
The House

“I thought you were alone here?”

“No dear, I just said nothing else was living…”

I stood at the street corner under the blistering heat, waiting for the bus to arrive.
I'm not even supposed to be out today, I thought, but I hate to be stuck at home on a dismal Wednesday.

I left the house wearing my Jurassic Park shirt not knowing where I was headed, then decided coffee was always a good idea.
After months of forbidding it, I permitted myself to peer into the corners of my memory and recall the name of that quaint little coffee place you used to work at.
'The service here is amazing, ain't it?'
'You should let other people tell you that.'
'Well, it pays to be courteous.'
Thinking of you seems to be harmless now.

Sweat started to trickle down my nape. The cars were at a standstill. I assumed the stoplight was broken until it turned green and cars started to speed past me. Out of habit, I checked the plate of every white sedan that passed by, in hopes of seeing yours. The light turned red again.

I could see the bus from where I stood. I scanned cars that didn't even remotely resemble yours. For a split-second, I thought I caught a glimpse of the familiar rickety white auto. Don't be stupid, I reminded myself.

The light went green. I saw that I had made no mistake. It's him. My insides went numb.

I struggled to keep a straight face; to remain as stoic as I was seconds ago, but I could feel my expression betray me for a moment. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away. The sedan passed and I could almost swear it slowed down as it drove by me.

I couldn't even tell if it was really you in the driver's seat. I remember often complaining about your windows being too tinted. I tried not to grin at the memory.

When you had passed, I allowed myself one last glance at the plate, and then you were gone.

Thoughts competed for a spot in my head. Did he see me? Did he recognize me? Was he with anyone? Where was he going?

Was it even real?

The bus honked louder and snapped me out of my daze. I got on.

• • •

I was sprawled on the couch with a book on my lap, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the phone. What was left of my sanity argued that you had no reason to reach out. Still, I waited.

At this point, I was drenched in flashbacks of what was, and it all feels like it was only a dream. I was in the passenger seat of your car again, my eyes half-lidded, classical music on the radio; and through my peripheral, I could see the sunlight hitting your face, and I had never seen anything so captivating. The reality of you seems to have come out of a novel - arriving at the most unforeseen time and staying only for as long as the Universe grants. A mirage, in every sense of the word. I wondered if any of it happened at all.

The phone rang.