An ugly coat. Big, puffy, and turquoise. Like deep sea glimmering turquoise. Its mass engulfing my sewing machine like a giant squid ready to squirt copious amounts of ink. I tackled it. I ripped its stitches. Took out the broken teeth that captures its prey. I hunkered down and pulled it taught willing the fabrics…
There was this window. It was elaborate with lead lines arching throughout the clear glass. A few of the small pains had broken and an expert was needed to repair. This was just one small detail throughout a restoration of an otherwise disaster house. Yet, the passion the leader had to restore the house was…
Flushed pink cheeks. His breathing is coming patterned and deep. The curling Snow White sticker his sister plastered to his freshly washed pajamas rises and falls with his every breath. His snores begin to match the dog’s nearby as if they rehearsed this slumbered lullaby.
“It was possible to force a mind meld on an unwilling subject, but most Vulcans would be loath to do so, unless under the most dire circumstances. An exception may be the Vulcans of the mirror universe, whose ethical constraints, shaped by the savagery of their environment, were far different.”[i]
I am driving on the interstate heading west. Through the wintery trees and between worn guardrails, my path curves up the on-ramp. Carefully I check blind spots. Merging onto the road now heading south, I accelerate.