Monday, March 2, 2009


To their creaking knees, the water was, perhaps, welcome lubrication. Peart jumped in first, while Angestrom held the boat steady. Angestrom watched his younger colleague wade the short distance towards the island, his arms holding his knapsack high above his head. The water was leaching up his shirt, climbing a fractal ladder through the fabric, turning Peart's torso as dark a blue as the sky. Angestrom wiped the sweat from the crown of his head. He sucked in the air: sweet, reminiscent.

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