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The hero and the princess - 4Dante had never prayed for rain so hard in his life. This was a rainy time of year, about twice a week, but never on Saturdays.
"Another clear, dry weekend!"
Dante groaned. His sister rolled her eyes.
Dante had always been told that good things come to those who wait, so he waited just as patiently as he was able. He continued his routine of asking for directions when the weather was nice and sulking in the coffee shop when it rained. He never heard Moonbeam, which wasn't surprising, but he never caught her scent either. He had a distinct disadvantage in this game, because he couldn't see her to know if she'd seen him.
She could dance circles around him, as long as she was quiet about it, and he'd most likely never know. He was sulking over this when someone joined him on the park bench. He heard the rustle of a paper sack just a second before the "Open your mouth" and something small and round pressed against his tightly closed lips.
He wasn't in the habit of accepting offers like tha
The hero and the princessDante's sister helped him buy rubber boots; she assured him they weren't girly in the least. Truthfully, he couldn't ever remember splashing in puddles; either his feet were wet, or his feet were dry. He walked very purposefully when it rained, so if he walked through a large puddle and got his feet soaking wet then anyone watching would think he'd done it on purpose. That was the goal he was never sure if it worked.
But after spending a day stomping puddles with the angel, Dante decided it was something he needed to continue, in order to live a fulfilling life.
Angelic inspiration didn't hurt.
Dante did his best to continue his routine of gathering descriptions when the weather was nice and retreating to the coffee shop when it rained. His constant thoughts were of Moonbeam and every night at bedtime he prayed for cloud cover in the forecast.
It was nearly lunch and he hadn't had a bite all day when the jingle of jewelry prompted Dante to ask again.
"Excuse me which way is
and The Petticoat PrincessDante purposefully avoided the coffee shop for several days. He wasn't a regular customer when the weather was nice, and the weather had been particularly nice lately. And though it was still warm, he could smell rain in the air while he walked to the coffee shop.
Dante was picking the walnuts out of his banana nut muffin when he was surprised by a particularly loud pair of squeaky shoes clomping across the floor. No one else had squeaked all morning.
Dante smirked at his muffin and muttered: "Good morning, Moonbeam" to the pile of discarded walnuts.
The whiff of honeysuckle gave her away; she was absolutely silent, when she wanted to be. And she was sitting at his table, and Dante felt a prick of uncertainty.
"I didn't know you were there. You're quieter than most folks."
"Quieter? Huh " She was drumming her fingers on the table. "That's a first. Most folks say I'm too loud. Want to go jump in puddles?"
"Puddles?" He didn't remember hearing
The Blind HeroDante never told people he was born that way. Well, not anymore. He'd told people when he was a kid, before he'd understood pity.
"Poor thing doesn't know what he's missing."
But Dante knew. He knew because he'd done experiments on his own, and he understood that human beings were visual creatures above all else.
Dante knew that the bank building on the corner was made of white blocks and had black windows and there was a green, glass clock hanging over the corner, so it could be seen and read from each side of the building. He knew this because he'd asked: "Excuse me, where is the bank around here?" And the people answered: "See the building with the white brick? The black windows? The green clock?"
Dante pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side and looked to where they were pointing, the different people on the different days. He had learned these expressions from his sister and practiced them often, so now people hardly knew he was experimenting with them.
But he had to be mi
There is no title.She went through minutes
slashing her self-confidence and
sharing her angst with any
who stood still long enough.
She gets mad at the sky and
takes it out on her kid,
who's first words came out "I hate you."
She blamed it on the trees,
and the sunsets,
and the unpractice of neutering young men.
Crazy womenOh God, women are crazy.
"I want to spend the weekend with Dad."
That's what set her off. She'd wanted to do something else I wanted to see my dad. Sometimes a guy just wants to see his dad.
Sure, Glenn was a good enough step-dad; hen-pecked, like me. I needed some man time away from the crazy women.
"What is he to you? A SPERM DONOR."
I sighed and looked over my shoulder; the woman in the yard picked up her poodle and went inside.
Women are crazy.
Wind"Don't do it."
That was Pekmae, trying to convince me not to wreck her ship.
"Because I'm not in the mood for crashing."
"You're an expert at crashing."
"Doesn't mean I want to."
"You always want to."
"Fine." She sighed and pushed the cat out of the chair beside the desk, the chair with needle-pointed calla lilies on the cushion that I use to keep the baby away from the outlets and the bookshelves. "Let's see what you've got."
The wind was really terrible. It was really difficult to fly.
Pekmae snorted. I scowled.
"What's wrong with that?"
"What? Nothing. Keep going."
The ship shook so hard that Pekmae's teeth rattled.
"Why do my teeth always rattle?"
"I don't know it's a good description."
"I hate it."
"Do you want to do this or not?"
"Fine. Go on."
She strained against the yoke, sweating and cursing as she wrestled her ship through the air.
Beside me, the pirate sighed. Her head was hanging over the back of the chair and she groaned
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