Faces in the DirtHe draws faces in the dirt with the toe of his boot. A dejected sigh escapes, her boredom overflowing like the snot trailing from his pink nose. "Are you quite finished, dear?"He coughs up another swirling river, painting over the newborn visages now left drowning in the mess of green. Another sigh fumes and her shoulders sink to the level of her evening.
A Simple Question, Revisited"Do you love me, Angel?"Beverage spewed from his coughing mouth, desperately trying to keep himself from choking. His baffled look bade her to inquire again:"Do you love me, Angel?"It was a simple question, but not one so simply answered. Technically speaking -being what he was- he loved all of God's creation: Essentially everyone (save Satan and his minions of evil, of course). At the very least, the terms in his heavenly contract stated that he was supposed to, and that is the reply he gave her. She shook her head as if speaking with a child."I don't mean the Love Thy Neighbor sort of thing, silly. You know: The pinky promise, warm and fuzzy, makes you act like a giddy idiot kind of love," She looked up shyly, fluttering her eyelashes. "Do you love me like that?" His mouth opened open as if to respond, but he promptly shut it again. What could he possibly tell her? Certainly not the truth. A defensive tactic he had so mastered in life was the only option."What makes you a
He Loved Her He loved her, she loved Lucien, and Lucien loved hats. A strange sort of man, Lucien was, but she had never fallen for the conventional sort of fellow. This was unfortunate for Doug: he was the most normal of their entire group. His hobbies included reading the phone book and playing Bridge with old ladies on the weekends, so, tragically, he was a bit dull as well. Willow never really noticed Doug, despite his best attempts at wooing her with fancy card tricks that always seemed to fall apart. They had been the best of friends for many years, but our sad hero had always been overshadowed by his loves seemingly constant train of bizarre infatuations, with Lucien merely the latest in this long line of mohawked rockers and bohemian layabouts. Previously, Doug had been able to find amiable qualities in even the worst of Willows beaus in attempts to pacify his longing for their enviable positions, but Lucien- with his i