"What wonderful worlds we create when we put pen to paper,  or fingers to keys.
The somber and the bright. The ugly and the nice.
Delicately we weave the lives of our characters
into the wonder of worlds far and near.
What wonderful amalgamations of the imagination."
Mabeline stared at the words in the book but the sounds of drunken laughter and music reverberated through her head like a muffled symphony of chaos. She couldn’t think straight let alone read. The words danced about the pages, a ritualistic dance that conjured frustration and annoyance. She’d never get through chapter nine with this ruckus. A quick glance at the clock told her it was 8:15 pm. The second hand seemed to tick louder as she looked away. Desperate to focus,  Mabeline rubbed her temples gently and took a deep breath. The ticking subsided but the all too familiar sounds of drunken stupor persisted, as did her frustration.

... and it was at that very moment, while watching him, a strange sensation rushed through my entire body. It’s hard to describe exactly what happened, but for an instant my eyes became his eyes. 
He and I were one. 
I felt his hunger. 
       His desperate need to eat. 
I understood the pain that rumbled through his stomach.

My hand grips the handle of the front door. I hesitate to open it. The brightness of the sun’s rays greets my face, blinding me from reality. The irritating sound of the blaring taxi’s horn rings in my head. I blink my eyes to focus but the sun reflects off your black leather suitcase. I watch it brush against the khaki brown pants that hide the muscularity of your legs. You are leaving and I refuse to let the sadness overcome me, but the soft hum of the yellow car makes it hard. Just knowing it waits to take you away lets the sadness prevail.