It’s good to have you back “around” though in your absence, so to speak, I’ve had the opportunity to realize and change a lot… for the better. Indeed, my philosophy regarding “distance and timing” continues to teach me as much as it haunts me –wisdom’s double edge, yet again. My *thinks* resistance to the bullets of this life has increased exponentially. The other kind I simply continue to dodge. The cause for this has many roots that are simultaneously fundamental to this said evolution and inconsequential as I live and breathe now. That is to say it feels much better than good… “righteous” would be more accurate. I find a lot less bothersome and the things that I do, well, they just don’t last in that state very long. It’s nice. To those that see and know me it tends to show in the ways that they’re used to. But, either way, the momentum is there whether it is seen or unseen –such is me
You really made me think when you asked that question. It wasn’t perfectly poetic but it all did kind of roll together. I suppose as such a memory remains, and I grow, it’s a weight worth carrying despite any remaining stigma… or hope. And that has to be a part of it, for better or for worse, otherwise I don’t think I’d care this much or be affected the way I am to create what I did about you (or all things in such a vain)… much less share it out loud. It would appear that, too, my words “we are strange creatures” still holds.
In any event my strength, resolve and heart have grown. Blessings continue to pour into my life. I haven’t felt the ability to say or share that kind of realization in a very long time (despite the fact I have always had God beside me and so many great things given to me by Him). Nor have I necessarily shared such a comment with you. We have exchanged a lot and are deeply connected at the soul level. But I do believe, often, the best has been shown and the worst has been hidden… *looks at her, squinting his eyes with an ever so slight smile* as I can clearly see so that is also with you. *sighs* And I have always known that about you, maybe even above everything else, but I did not prosecute it like I should have… or at least not when I should have.
It would seem that life’s lessons, like history, indeed repeat themselves and that the difference between knowing a path and walking it… is still an inescapable mastership of distance and timing.
Angel walked out of the rusted and derelict gas station with a map clutched in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She looked around, slowly, from left to right as she collapsed her sunglasses from the top of her head over her eyes. She breathed in heavy and deep as she sighed in exhale, wiping her forehead of the sweat that seemed to instantly form from the hot, unforgiving sun. It combined with endless, desolate and flat horizon of sand that surrounded her. It appeared so dry, tired and lifeless… like it wouldn’t end and there was no way out, just a road that went one way or the other… disappearing into the rippling heat.
She was exhausted. But more than that she was out; of energy, of heart, of desire. Caleb was gone. She was alone. All of this way, traveled. Bullets fired, blood shed and an evil vanquished. It almost sounded perfect, she thought to herself, as she huffed a sarcastic laugh. But it wasn’t. He was one, not out of a hundred, a thousand or even a million… he was the one. Evil, on the other hand, has copies of itself, everywhere, waiting to step in where the last version left off. Byron was just another copy… and now there was no one left to stem the tide or, selfishly, there was no one left for her.
She walked up to the driver’s side door of her car and frustratingly threw the bottle of water into the passenger seat as she leaned, sitting, against the door. She just couldn’t let it go. His face was burned into her mind… not as a memory but right in front of her. Every blink and change of scene was preceded by every, rare, smile he revealed and each good thing he did to save her from the consequences of his choices. His words rang in her head like the bell from a church tower, “A hero isn’t something that exists; a hero is something that a person becomes when they accept to carry out the will and overcome the circumstances that anyone else won’t or can’t. This time that’s me.” But why? Why did he have to go? He was the good guy. She wasn’t sure if she hated him or God or… and then her eyes began to well up as she stated to cry. She let out a short whimper before buttoning her lip and folding her arms, refusing to become a victim of things she could no longer make different or undo. She opened the door and sat down, cranking the ignition of the classic, but unkept, convertible Mustang. As the car sat, idling, she leaned upon her left hand before regaining a majority of her composure. She glanced, briefly, at the map still in her hand and then laughed, abruptly, before tossing it to the floor. She shifted the car into gear and accelerated out to the right, onto the very same road that Caleb rescued her from before.
**Begin Track; “Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback**
The wind wasn’t cool but it was a welcomed sensation as it passed through her hair. She had no idea where she was going but, for the first time, she didn’t care. Being kidnapped, shot at and almost blown up can have that affect on you. As she drove she remembered one other thing Caleb told her, “Despair is a prophecy that always fulfils itself, hope is not a method and faith is the only real thing we can ever have in this life that can’t be taken away.” It made her smile to remember that even if she wasn’t sure if she had any more faith left. As she looked in the rearview mirror she noticed something coming up behind her. She raised up, slightly, looking closer at the reflection before turning and looking over her shoulder. It was a semi-truck. She turned back around but not before, for a just a moment, remembering and believing. She watched it in the rearview as it approached. It signaled to change lanes, in order to pass her and as it did so did a black, low profile car appeared from its bowels… it was Caleb’s car… (on beat, time +1:01) it was Caleb.
Her heart soared as her stomach knotted. She tried to breathe and scream at the same time but it didn’t work. He tailed her car as the semi-truck accelerated on, blowing its horn in a congratulatory resonance. He dove the car into the lane adjacent to her and pulled up beside her, rolling down his window halfway, giving her a tilted look over the rim of his sunglasses with that crooked smile and future-telling wink. She quickly pulled the car to the side of the road as Caleb pulled over just in front of her. She tore out of her car and ran toward him as he slid out between the scissor door of his.
She tackled him with a hug, impaling her face upon his chest as he enclosed his hands and fingers around her head and hair. She then, instantly, pushed him back and punched his arms with her fists as he laughed and complained simultaneously, “Owww…. it’s nice to see you too.”
“You knew, didn’t you?!” she accused him. He half-laughed and shrugged his shoulders, searching half-heartedly for an explanation. “I thought you were DEAD!” She exclaimed. Caleb tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes in that now-so-classic fashion. She rolled her eyes in a slight guilt, “Well… I did…”
With her arms folded and looking down he cradled her face in his right hand, “I know…”, he sighed. “But there was something more important than me or stopping Byron…” He paused “…that I had to make sure was taken care of.”
She looked up as he touched her face and asked, “Yeah? What…”
He moved his hand down and over her heart as her eyes widened, “I didn’t go back for Byron just to kill him. I went back for you.” She stepped back, jaw slightly dropped. Caleb put his right hand on the upright, gloss-black door of his car and continued, “He would have come after you, they… ” He paused and looked away in thought, “…they would have come after you. Someone… ” He looked back at her and sighed as yet another rare, genuine smile grew upon his face at her, “And… when you save someone’s life you merely do them a favor… when you ensure someone’s livelihood you give up a part of yourself to protect that life.” Her throat and lips began to motion so as to ask ‘But why me?’ to which he answered before she asked, “Because, when you have great power doing a good thing is easy. Answering the question ‘why?’ or to do something great…” He paused, taking a step toward her, lowering his chin to look at her directly beneath his brow “…takes a reason bigger than both.”
She cracked a smile, realizing that he was talking about her, stepped back and walked around to the passenger side of his car and opened the door to get in. She stopped just before sitting down and asked him across the roof of the car, in a sarcastically conceited tone, “So, when did this all become about me?”
Caleb laughed and shook his head and sat down behind the wheel. She followed and waited for his answer, intently looking in his direction. He peered at her without moving his head and replied as he shut the door and pushed the car into gear, “It always was…” The car revved and raged forward as she smiled and sat back in her seat, placing her hand over his.
Caleb approached the long line to the infamous nightclub. The night was dense and rare with no other sound but the slight chatter of the crowd in the line, cars driving by on the nearby road, and the padded, muddled echo of bass coming from inside the building.
So Caleb stood in line waiting. Looking around him, over his shoulder, listening to the chatter as he stroked draw after draw from his Turkish, sandstone pipe. Each exhale of smoke created a dragon like cloud that would raise through the air with a life of its own while the excess smoke would descend from his mouth like from that of a freshly fired pistol. Every so often he would re-adjust his black fedora hat and his long black trench coat and peer among the people waiting.
He didn’t have to wait in line; he could have walked through the front door with nothing more than a glance -if that. But he always had this commoner ideal-type and way about his profile… he preferred to be a part of the nameless and faceless even though his was known by fiercest… as the fiercest.
Always alone he stood in line -exposed in the most tactical and dangerous sense. He didn’t care though. Guarded or not he wasn’t afraid -ever. And guarded or not… he was the ultimate question mark. Stories claim his guards weren’t for his protection at all… they were for anyone who might tempt him to retaliate. Then again stories also tell of a cat in a hat who doesn’t seem to like green eggs and ham. It makes one wonder who would eat green eggs anyway. It makes you wonder if testing a man like Caleb was worth proving any such curiosity that so often kills the cat.
So slowly making step by step closer to the door Caleb peered down the side road running parallel along the line to get in. Beyond the opening at the end of the side street cars zoomed by one after the other in a hurry to get anywhere. He could smell the diesel fumes of garbage trucks and flatbeds in the air… it reminded him of his days in Europe from when he was young; a truly contaminating but unmistakable, poignant odor calling out once placid memories.
Everything else though, the buildings near him, seemed so still. As if they had no life or they were petrified in their blackness… but he knew there were lookers within them, life somewhere beyond that black, dark crust. He always knew someone was watching…. and just the same it never mattered.
Caleb observed the people before him. Wild hair-do’s, piercings from head to toe, tattoos in every place seeable…. and thankfully un-seeable. Conversations on cell phones that were made to look far more important than they probably, actually were. Pseudo-intellectuals rolling their eyes at their party’s comments while they flare back their multi-colored hair in laughter. His associates always asked him why he dabbled in such time-consuming and, what they called, “pedestrian” social experiments. But he never replied because he knew they’d never get it. He just raised his pipe to his mouth and raised his eyebrows in simple but un-uttered reply… and of course he smiled too.
As the line became shorter Caleb looked to the sky and squinted. He breathed deep and heavy through his nose almost as if to sense something –like a rattlesnake might with its tongue. In any case he just raised his eyebrows as before and smiled. Moments later a slight un-syncopated tapping noise began to rise like the clapping of a crowd before an orchestra. The ground began to come alive with small splashes of life and rain more and more immediately began to fall from the sky… and Caleb smiled again.
The line broke free like a panicked heard of cows running to seek cover from the falling sky. Worthless and fabricated screams rang out as they sought to cover their manufactured avatars from the element of life striking them down -perhaps righteously. But Caleb just stood still, solid in the falling rain with his pipe… that crooked grin still on his face.
As the crowd ran for cover, leaving their long waited place in line, he walked to the entrance of the club with a remarkably present sense of satisfaction on his face… puffing away, his dragon’s claw carved from stone.
Upon his final step to the gate the bouncer at the door raised his hand in common-place to stop Caleb not knowing who he was immediately. But as Caleb raised his head, his fedora hat revealing his face, the guard’s eyes soon became open and flat approaching almost fear. Caleb just clasped the bouncer’s hand with both of his own and said… “Looks like rain my friend… try and stay dry…” Caleb patted the sir on his shoulder, slightly nodded and walked on, careless, carefree, patient in the crowd, always a member to the frequent storm, but still known well on the inside, places dry and warm…
Whisper – End Title
By J. Keys
(written to “Come Clean (Chris Cox Remix)” – Hilary Duff)
*music starting at -7:23 or +2:11*
[[ She ran toward the car in the pouring rain, frantically and desperately trying to reach him before he left for what would be forever. The rain fell down like a hammer pounding on a nail or like an angry man breaking down a door... unrelenting. It seemed almost to have wanting in slowing her down. Tears streamed from her eyes and melded with the torrential drops of life that beat away at the earth as much as it did her efforts. The break lights of his car illuminated and the engine came to life with a resounding roar followed by a tiger-revving and searing sound. She began to slow her run in defeat as her eyes became wider and sad. The vehicle burned its tires against the wet pavement boiling the water beneath as it launched like rocket into space, whining and fading into the darkness and rain-filled haze of the night-cast street. She stood in pause like a rented movie, left on hold for something else to take its place, crying and without belief... ]]
*Caleb’s narrative begins, but no switch to the car cabin is made by the camera, just panning between her and the exterior of it driving away and passing under street lights and turns*
*Switch to Car @ -6:09 / +3:25*
Caleb: You know Albert Einstein once said that the world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of those who don’t do anything about it…
*Switch to her*
Caleb: In that vein another great mind, Bruce Lee, once said that there is no weapon more deadly than the will…
*Switch to car*
Caleb: I have to say that I agree with them both, polar opposites of destiny that nonetheless underscore what I do and why I must…
*Switch to her*
Caleb: But I believe that in my quests and in my life, no matter what I want or what forces I must contend with to make those things right… I am still a man, a human being… and that these elements added with one final truth bring my purpose full circle…
*Switch to car*
Caleb: That good certainly begets good as much as evil can equally destroy evil… And I am both we are all both… But that without something to convict us
*Switch to her, close-up of her face, on her knees, and then a refocus behind her*
[[ Caleb appears behind her in the rain from the shadows between the awnings of a door to a building on the sidewalk ]]
Caleb: There is no such purpose…
[[ Her eyes widened with her back turned to him, not hoping but knowing that, miraculously, he was there. She turned around, rushed toward him and instantly thrust her arms around him, clutching him toward her with all her might. He gently embraced her, merging his cheek and lips against her rain-soaked hair and in slow-motion cinema his eyes closed for her like they would not for the rest of the world. And as they closed an eyelash brushed her skin just slightly and like the hand of God ran through her blood and heart and she said simply while clinching his body between her fingers... ]]
*camera pans out, rain still falling, empty streets*
Her: Thank you…
*echo at -3:13 / +6:22 “rain falls down…” continues into fade out*
Someday
By J. Keys
(Written to “Someday” performed by Nickelback)
Left with not much more than the metalically textured taste of blood in his mouth he licked his lips and thought… “Could be worse, I suppose…” The car idled softly in the background like a prize steed awaiting his master; a nighthawk black pearl masterpiece of precision with a rooftop open to the air and God above. He stood there as she walked away, his charcoal-black trench coat blowing past his tall-figured silhouetted mass, blood-like crimson lining shining its way from behind the matte colored canvas, whisking in the wind like stained swords from ancient battles, his hands shoved deep within his pockets, eyes squinted; forced by the cold blowing wind –the cold nature of all things true and all things free. He waited, standing there occasionally looking up at the moon above the seascape horizon as a white-faded shimmer danced upon the water with no one shape, name or reason but to reflect the far and away beautiful but forever untouchable two faced sky.
He watched as she didn’t turn around… but he wasn’t waiting for that, he was just making sure she would never forget. He dared her without a word. He just stood there with the right hand of defiance invisibly on his shoulder. He then removed his hands from his pockets and opened the door to his chariot awaiting and got in replying with a sigh to most of it and a reluctant nod to the rest. And just before he released the clutch and dropped into first gear he took a deep breath in and out, peered to the corner of his eye and whispered to the world and fate, “Someday…”
Whisper – The Trap
By J. Keys
(written to “Whisper” by Evanescence)
Caleb ran down the dark, damp hallway fleeing fast away from them. His breath echoed off of the cold, wet, concrete walls and his serpent-like long trench coat flailed behind him, its inner, blood-red lining warping in out of sight within the black, outer shield. They thought they had him as they pursued him at speed… but he wasn’t running away… he simply led them down a path.
He rounded a corner, flattening his back and palms to the wall, holding his breath. They stopped to listen at the corridor crossing. He slightly then, and purposely, released a near-inaudible murmur as he whispered a breath.
Alerted, their charge continued toward him and he smiled, continuing his chase into the darkness cut by brief moments of light piercing through the open ways and windows throughout the structure. They closed in from the south and east entrances as they spotted his shadow scattering between the load bearing pillars of the loft building and they opened fire.
Bullet after bullet passed him as he ducked, dodged and evaded each scathing arrow of death. He increased his charge toward the elevator shaft on the north side of the floor as 3 rounds pounded him in the back –his body armor spread out the pressure of the impact but nevertheless increased his forward momentum. He leapt toward the open doors of the endless cavern and dove toward its sure and black abyss, falling by the eyes of his hunters.
They saw him fall and slowed their attack pace, lowering their weapons, as the approached the place where he disappeared. An eery and certainly unsure silence befell the once heated and deadly pursuit. They believed now they had completed their task and this thing was now no longer a bother to them or their design. Then a loud bang rang out from within the empty space and a nauseating blur of black and crimson red flew past their field of view, rising up and away from previously where their intended prey tilted over.
Caleb rode the obliterated elevator cable he had severed with a gun shot on the way to his assumed fate, holding a remote detonating transceiver and mashed down on its one and only trigger for it’s one and only purpose as he rocketed to his escape.
The room full of pillars illuminated with red LED’s displaying a 10 second timer counting backwards as the hunters suddenly turned hunted realized the mousetrap they had been led into. Only as their mouths began to enlarge to scream did their pupils preceded them in awe and fear –both all too late as the timers all read 00:00; fire and force then filling the room.
( 00:00 clock, explosion, escape to roof and jump coincide with time between +2:17 and +2:44, final roof-top explosion and jump occurring on +2:44 )
Just as he reached the roof level the chain reaction below yawned and screamed like a demon intent on taking him back, concreate and darkness now no longer his friends. The building rumbled, shook and groaned with each chained explosion moving skyward, toward him. He ran toward the tower’s edge, stepping upon it to jump while simultaneously being thrown from the dying edifice as prustined its own last breath of life and words through flame and force launching Caleb to the roof of a building across from the street.
Caleb uncurled from the fetal position upon the opposite roof and looked across at his burning work of art, half-smiling through the soot and marks on his face as he achingly lifted himself of the ground. The flames reflected in his eyes with hints of red and blue as emergency vehicles pounced on the scene attempting to discern the madness from the mayhem. Caleb just laughed under his breath, recalling what his master once told him; “Any hunter can kill or be killed but a true predator is always willing to become a part of the trap he sets to succeed or destroy his enemy.”
With the fire to his back and slight wind beneath his coat tails he walked away and thought; “Two down; more tomorrow…”
The rain poured down like that from a waterfall -crashing and relentless. Caleb watched from a distance in the cold, blue afternoon standing amongst the trees, away… within a hazy smokescreen-like fog camouflaged beside the other graves within the cemetery.
He just stood there. Watching them all pour over the casket… like the rain. He saw them all there and in a morbid fashion he could see everything for the first time, in real time as they cried and lowered their heads at the tragedy that appeared before them.
He just stood and watched. His breath condensed against the cold and wet atmosphere, taking the consuming shape of sharp and painful things… like the claws of a dragon and teeth of a tiger flushing past his face and rising through the falling rain like an angel.
And then she approached the tomb, not sad, but dead with sorrow of what she saw but really only what she thought she knew. She stood above the box becoming engulfed by the storm… drenched as she looked upon the chasm. Then she reluctantly cast down a single rose and as it landed thunder rang out like the sound of titans at war. Everyone shuddered and everyone shrieked… everyone but her. And slowly one tear from her eye trickled down her cheek standing out from the billions of rain drops crashing from the sky.
Then Caleb did what he would never do for anyone else. He reached to his head, grasped his felt fedora hat in his right hand, clinching it, and brought it to his side. The rain took its place upon his body, upon his shoulders.
Before she turned away for good she looked aimlessly… perhaps randomly… perhaps fatefully upon the trees in the distance… seeing only the faint appearance of a shadow fading into the mist and rain… and for a moment her hope sparked… but then faltered in despair of the impossibility.
( cue track: Linkin Park – In the end [instrumental only] )
But somewhere inside she didn’t give up and she looked up far into the overcast sky through the sharp vein of trees and branches scattered about like rusted prison bars… and as Caleb looked on somehow he knew this too and faded finally away into the fog.
He licked his lips of life and placed his hat back upon his head, sighing with relief and sorrow… and a little bit of hope. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and cinched the gap closed as he scaled the leaf-covered yard of stone. And he walked knowing; knowing that in the end the return of all things is a force of fate that always makes its way back and can never be denied…
So Caleb read her answers line by line and in doing so read between the lines as well. There was always something in code, always something not quite clear or something clear made vague by a… pause or trail. He briefly looked up around the cafe to catch a cool breeze passing by; the weather was nice today.
She didn’t say “Yes.” but “Yes…” Yes, period -definitive. Yes, ellipses -and? And what? And why not period? Caleb laced his fingers together and leaned his mouth and chin into his clasped hands as he peered at the screen and sighed. It was almost as if he was trying to see more within the simple mesh of pixels comprising only simple text that comprised a not so simple message, to see beyond; his nose, his self and maybe his despair too.
“The end of fear is where we begin…” he recalls that he sent to her. “What if it’s not fear?” she asked in response… a question that was never resolved. Then what? 49 is a divine derivative, divisible only by itself or its primes. Caleb wondered if that was fitting as he read the line again and again: “neither” -period.
Maybe that was it… acceptance of the way things were combined with the belief that a wall of circumstances masquerading as fate created a boundary that was all too real and all too insurmountable. How many of us really, ever want to start over? Chance everything even for what might really be everything?
The answer to “if you had to” is easy because it’s not optional. It’s the answer to “if you could” that’s tricky because the real answer is behind the real question “would you?”. Caleb caught, out the corner of his eyes, the paper weight he kept on his desk. A heavy weighted metal block inscribed with the words “If you knew you could not fail…” on one side and “what would you do?” on the other. He picked it up with his right hand and mulled it about in his palm as he read her words and wondered what she really thought… what she would really say in a quiet or stolen moment. The slab spinning smoothly in his palm came to crawl, almost in slow motion like a move and a he then considered, “Maybe none of it was real…”
In a fit of frustration Caleb threw the metal slab to the ground and watched it slide across the floor as he sat back with his arms crossed. Sometimes he simply couldn’t tell the difference between his faith and his selfishness and whether or not the line he walked was between that and obsession or obsession and destiny. Sometimes he wished he could just let go of it. Why was giving up so easy? Why was knowing so much harder than holding on?
He got up and walked over to the middle of the room to where the prophetic mineral commandment lay. He stared at it as if it were a wounded creature lying cold on the floor, undecided of his sympathy. He leaned over and picked it up with his fore finger and thumb before wrapping it in his hand tight, clinching it into his fist with a somewhat irritated acceptance. He wanted to brand himself with the message so that he would always ask and never forget…
After sitting down Caleb caught a faint reflection of his face in the glare of the screen and he paused in repose. Maybe that was the real question, the true point of clarity? That, our desire aside, such a thing can not be imparted through any word or form from one to another. That truth and faith are realized; not delivered. And that what you believe, even your heart of hearts, can only be carried by an individual so far before “would you still… even if you knew you couldn’t?” must truly become “will you… even if you don’t know for sure?”
Caleb, yet unresolved and yet unknown, closed shut his screen and sighed again. Another cool breeze rolled over him; the weather was still nice but equally unclear.
One last, again
By J. Keys
(written to and inspired by the live cover of “Billie Jean” by Chris Cornell @ http://www.myspace.com/chriscornell)
Caleb sat back in his chair at a table inside Marlow’s Tavern, listening to the band play song after song in between all the chatter and smoke-filled air. His bourbon sat next to him, always within arms reach; a half-inch with two cubes of ice. As he sat shoulder to arm with one leg upon another seat he would roll the edge of his Riedel glass away as it sat upon the hemispherical base allowing the drink to tumble and breath as much as it amused him to do so. And then she walked in…
“Why was it always that way?” Caleb thought as he looked up and suddenly captured her entrance from across the floor. Perhaps it was because though we always wanted great things we never knew when exactly to expect them and just as suddenly try to make them fit instead of letting them take their place. And she was certainly both great and sudden whenever she entered the scene, simultaneously causing it.
Just before the chorus began Caleb arose from his scratched and tattered, oak throne and approached her. He walked as if he were a part of the song that played but with no particular beat or pace… more like the narrator in your head or over your shoulder as you look around and write down mundane and hopeful observations of the world before our eyes after each frame and blink. He placed his right hand on her left and taking her coat with his left and said, “This time it’s my turn…” as he handed her jacket to the host and led her to the dance floor the same way that she did so seemingly long ago.
And so they danced. She tried to bury her face in his chest, though kind and warm, the action doubled to avoid his eyes connecting with hers… but it only brought her closer to him; such was usually the case when one tried exchange the truth for anything else. If perfect were a scent instead of just a word then her hair and neck would have been the central source. It wasn’t just the calling of a memory but a rare, tangible, grasp of hope wrapped in pure joy. Her fingers moving up the back of his neck and through his hair returned equally rare and tangible proof.
Their intertwine and movement was like one; the protector and the protected united and invincible. Why anyone wouldn’t want that completely continued to be a mystery to him… but her leaving this scene, he knew, would be an inevitability. There was always more to be said but it could never speak louder than the song or lyric that filled their ears and their hearts; loyal, but perceptively tragic, servants to circumstance instead of fate…
And before the final lines Caleb pulled her from his cover and looked into her cutting and soft eyes and he saw in her what she really wanted to be and would freely admint but not submit to. So he stepped back slowly, one foot after the other, almost creating an uncrossable gap just before her fingertips lost touch with his as she half-stepped forward to hold on. A lesson to be learned in the power of every decision and song; remembering to always think twice…
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