Wearing ROUGE like the rogue he was, Paul sauntered along the WHARF. You could almost CHART the time of day by the waxing and waning of his CHARM. He shared other qualities with the moon; those he enchanted used words like “pearly,” “mysterious,” and one even nicknamed him “La Luna.” But he was perhaps most like the moon in his ability to reflect his companion’s own light, glowing softly where they burned brightly. This ability caused many an unsuspecting person to believe that he was whatever they themselves were, falling in love in the most narcissistic of ways. This would happen regularly in the time it took to finish a glass of his beloved CHARD and a plate of fine cheese. They would not see it coming, the trap would have been set by their own vanities and self-absorption.

Georg’ann

Late last spring, I was working in the garden one afternoon, gently pulling weeds out of the moist soil. Summer had not yet arrived. I was still in the season of pleasure in all gardening tasks. Quiet, sensual, earthy work full of potential. The delight of expectation, abundance to come.

Into this unguarded moment came a memory of my mother, so palpable it might actually have been her GHOST. I could see her her hands in the dirt, sun glinting on the gold CHAIN that never left her wrist. Adorned with a single CHARM given to mark my birth. I was my mother’s true love, the only one worthy of a gold trinket, worn as permanently as if it were a tattoo.
She wasn’t one for clutter, but held close the few things that truly mattered. Tears fell into the newly planted CHARD, as I looked at down at my naked wrist.

Heather