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ashleynting
July 26, 2024 1:15 am

The mountains offered mineral riches and a quick death.

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ashleynting
July 26, 2024 1:15 am

By the entrance there had been a painting or a mirror on a wall, and its oval outline was visible against the wallpaper, like a lonesome fingerprint at the scene of a crime.

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ashleynting
July 30, 2024 12:58 am

She thought it was her refusal that amused him. He was, likely, not used to being refused. But then, many men were the same.

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ashleynting
July 30, 2024 12:58 am

“I do my best thinking when I’m in motion.”

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ashleynting
July 30, 2024 12:58 am

She thought that men such as her father could be stern and men could be cold like Virgil, but women needed to be liked or they’d be in trouble.

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:09 am

In a sense all dreams foretell events, but some more clearly than others.

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:09 am

He looked, as he often did, quite fragile, the faint sketch of a man.

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:10 am

“I tried my hand at painting once. I thought it made sense, you know? My father being in the dye and paint business, after all. But I was no good. Plus, I like photos better. They capture the thing in the moment.”

“But painting is the repeated exposure to a thing. It captures the essence of the object.”

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:10 am

The other book was more interesting, dwelling on Greek and Roman mythology. She opened it and saw the faint, dark marks of mold upon the first page. She turned the pages carefully. The interior pages were mostly intact, a few tiny spots on a corner or two. They made her think of snatches of Morse code. Nature writing upon paper and leather.

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:10 am

They’d placed flowers in more of those tall vases, left a bouquet tied with an old ribbon on the bed, and lit many long candles. It was a parody of romanticism. The scent here was of misplaced spring, of flowers and wax.

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ashleynting
August 6, 2024 2:10 am

The future, she thought, could not be predicted, and the shape of things could not be divined. To think otherwise was absurd. But they were young that morning, and they could cling to hope. Hope that the world could be remade, kinder and sweeter. So she kissed him a second time, for luck. When he looked at her again his face was filled with such an extraordinary gladness, and the third time she kissed him it was for love.

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