Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Rise and Fall of the Song of Mirriam Brown

This one's even longer. It has also been workshopped. I need to edit the post to include italics later, but for now, you may read to your heart's content.

Brandon Keim was a tall young man. His brown eyes, while rather unremarkable, always had a way of catching strangers' attention with the intelligence gleaming within. His hair was a dark blond in color, and his build was neither athletic nor lethargic. While intelligent, his grades in both high school and college suffered because of his lack of motivation to fill out meaningless worksheets and answer stupid questions about past tense and dates of major happenings in history. He also walked with a limp. Great people in history had limps, but he was only Brandon Keim, video game designer in training at GameTime Pro.
The limp had bothered him when he was younger; it caused ridicule and staring wherever he went. Even now, in the dusty old cubicles at GameTime Pro, he sometimes felt a few sets of eyes on him. There'd been times in his youth when he'd felt the only sure way to stop the staring was to stop limping. He once tried to stop, but it made walking slow and meticulous, which only gained more laughter from his peers, so he returned to his limp; It gave his walking a peculiar tun-ta-dun sort of rhythm. It was from this that his first song had begun. Tun-ta-dun, tun-ta-dun, tun-ta-dum everywhere he went.
In junior high, his clarinet joined the song: tun-ta-dun, tun-ta-dun, doodle-do, tun-ta-dun. In time, his song grew and evolved until he grew bored with it and started listening for his friends’ songs. For a long while, nothing came, until one day, like a radio finally finding a receiver, his friend Susan’s song fizzled into his mind as she described to him her hopes and dreams for her future . A violin rang out clearly into his mind with a manner that gave her beauty and grace clear evidence. It was soon joined by occasional squeaks of a piccolo that characterized her quirky smile and constant fidgeting. His friend Sal was a bit more modern, kind of like the rocking sounds of Jekyll and Hyde rolling onto his radio dial.
The first time someone's song immediately appeared was when he met his new boss. Having graduated with only a marginally good GPA and being completely ignorant to the ways of the real world, he expected very little from this interview. This man did not exactly encourage him, either. He walked into the room and took one glance at his crooked, blue-tinted glasses, tie-dyed shirt, khaki pants and flipflops, and immediately felt any fears slip away. Mostly, he just really wanted to laugh at this guy. The “Age of Aquarius” began to play in his mind. In fact, as he went through the standardized questions to test Brandon's worthiness, it became quite distracting. Nothing about this guy was intimidating as a boss ought to be. Adrian D. Jasperson's shaggy blond hair might have been a few inches shorter and his bell-bottoms may have been exchanged for khaki cargo pants, but the song still clung avidly to him, like screaming “hippy” at the top of its lungs.
When the Moon is in the Seventh House...Brandon Continued to answer quite automatically. Yes, he had finished college only a week ago. Then peace will guide the planets, Adrian Jasperson turned to his PC and his spectacled eyes shifted to and fro on the screen as the song continued, And love will steer the stars. He passed Brandon a couple of informative papers. This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, the song insisted. He asked Brandon more stupid questions about his people skills as well as his programming skills, which seemed, Adrian said, quite promising. The Age of Aquarius! Aquarius! Aquarius! He smiled in a patient way, as if he understood the vacant look on Brandon's face as the song faded away for the second verse.
“You'll be alright, son,” Adrian said, admiring his wall of past successes in the game business. “I think you'll be a wonderful asset to GameTime Pro. Welcome to the crew!”
A bit startled, Brandon left his office with a nervous grin and a shake of Adrian's hand.
“Just round that corner there and Amber will see to it that you get your contract.”
Brandon nodded weakly and rounded the corner. A girl with red, curly hair sat at the secretary's desk, an expectant smile on her face. Her eyes flicked down towards his feet for a moment, then back upward. She'd registered his limp faster than most people. Her song rose into the quiet of his mind. It was a song he'd never heard, but it was an upbeat pop song with boy band lyrics. I'll be your man-- you'll be my girl, yeah yeah be mine---
“Er... are you Amber?”
“Sure am, Mr. Keim!” she said, flashing a false-looking metal smile. “Here is your paperwork. Do you have your Driver's License and Social Security Card? I need to make copies of those.”
A vague feeling of happiness seeped into his being then, and in the absence of Aquarius, his own song peeped out at a cheerful tempo. He passed her the two cards.
“So, I'm hired?”
Amber nodded, her smile still brilliant as her boy band song rose into a loud chorus.
“I hear your phone interview was very impressive,” she said, “This was only a follow-up interview. He does those a lot.”
#
Brandon's life was finally moving somewhere. No more homework, no more classes, and what's more, he had a good paying job. A week later, he returned to the GameTime Pro building on the corner of Main Street and Hoover. He was lucky enough to have inherited a bike from his older brother, who now enjoyed a brand new Volkswagen Jetta. Otherwise, he'd have to take the bus, which would be interesting except for the fact that his radio of a brain had started picking up on everyone's songs, and though he could turn down the volume in his mind, he still couldn't quite separate station from station.
Riding his bike, he could take less crowded streets and just laugh at the snippets of songs he'd hear as he raced by. There was this girl he always passed in the mornings who walked with such surety and cheerfulness that the song assigned to her was that old song that used to play on Hershey's commercials: Put a smile on your face, it insisted, as she caught his eyes briefly, and then looked away, make the world a better place! He thus christened her “Hershey's Girl,” though the song was by Vitamin C. Paul Schmidt, his department head, was an adaptation of the 2001: A Space Odyssey song. It involved more instrumentation and less drum work, but it was marvelous. It somehow made every meaningless new programming term more interesting.
He didn't make any friends at work for a long time. His days consisted of waking up, wandering to the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast, and then biking to work. After work, he went to the piano, and tried to compose his own music. Sometimes he tried to make sense of all the new songs he'd heard so far. Musical auras (for that is what he called them) were all quite interesting, but he decided that most people fit into different categories, according to their taste in music, clothing, and their general personality, and that most of those categories weren't worth his time.
There was also this teenage couple who were always making out on a bench outside the Geoffrey P. Banks Park. Whenever Brandon walked past them, he got this strange blend of Bob Dylan's “Fools Rush In” and Supertramp's “Girlfriend”: Take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one I've got(na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na!), followed by, but I can't help falling in love with you! People in love are strange things. Besides, he knew that the tall, quarterback-built boy had more than her smile on his mind. The football player's large, rough hand had a habit of feeling much more of his girlfriend's “porcelain skin” than she really thought he should in public, and then he would smirk and kiss her again. She's not much of a girlfriend, I never seem to get a lot, Supertramp sang. That girl really was smart to make out in public. Quarterback would be hitting the ball way further into left field if they were in a dark room someplace.
He walked past the couple that morning. The slurping sound they emitted was a little too much for him, so he took a detour, his mind on the load of work ahead of him. His Department Head had assigned him a bit of critical programming for the next major add-on for America's favorite Multilayer online roleplay game. It occurred to him as he walked between the duck pond to the ten-story GameTime building, that he should probably work on that. He still had to meet with some girl called Mirriam about the graphics that went with his project.
He opened the door and slid among other workers towards his department, not even allowing himself to tune in to the music that surrounded him, so that it blurred by like turning stations on the dial. He thought of his first paycheck and what he might buy with it. He'd have to put a bit of it into savings. And then he thought of that really attractive girl, Amber that worked in Adrian's office. And then a pair of eyes caught his, as they had before.
The Hershey's chocolate girl was coming down the open hall to his left, the smile erased from her face. It wasn't the lack of a smile that made him keep looking at her, however, it was her song: it had changed. The song that now rang out was from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. Think of me, Christine Daae sang, at first quietly, and then stronger: Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye! It filled his mind and caught all his attention. It was like her radio station had changed genres! When you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free- she turned down the hall and walked alongside him. Hershey girl's long black lashes fluttered a bit as she blinked and tilted her head at him, one dark eyebrow raising into the almost black fringe of bangs that swept down the left side of her face.
She attempted to divert her eyes nervously. We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea-- her eyes twitched around the hallway for a moment, and then stubbornly landed back on him. He finally took his eyes away from her face, and faked a cough as an apology. He really hadn't meant to stare for so long. Think of all the things we've shared and seen-- an airy, nervous laugh escaped her throat as she turned into the door of the art department.. Brandon paused at the door. He was supposed to go and ask this Mirriam girl about graphics, but he didn't want to make Hershey's Girl even more suspicious, so he shook his head of the song, taking a moment to collect himself and walked through the doorway just to the right.
Brandon tried to focus on some of his other projects, but he was confused. Only one other person's song had ever changed, and that was the same Emily Newman he'd once crushed on in College. She'd found out about it and blatantly ignored him since. Her station changed as he'd gotten to know her, but he didn't even know Hershey Girl. Why did her song change? Obviously, she wasn't as cheerful as usual, but that was hardly an excuse. Anyone else he'd ever met had a song, but they kept that song. If they were angry, the tone of the song might change, or the tempo might change when they were sad, but no one's song ever changed to a completely new song in a completely different genre. And Hershey Girl's song had changed. And now, for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Brandon tried to wait for her to leave before he picked up his scraggy notebook and pencil, but he really needed to talk to that girl about the graphics. Shrugging finally, he stood and walked briskly out the Programming door and into the Art and Graphic Design Department. He scanned the cubicles for a moment, and then realized that there was a receptionist staring up at him.
“Excuse me, but can you direct me to Mirriam?” he asked. “I think that's her name... I need to meet with her about a programming project.”
He limped over to the cubicle she indicated, attracting very few of the artists' attention. He turned and found Mirriam had a dazed look on her face, which spoke of sleepiness and confusion from underneath the dark fringe of bangs. Christine Daae's song again rang out, but this time, the song paused in all the wrong places, or at least for longer amounts of time. This change didn't confuse him for very long. He realized that some random guy staring at you for a prolonged amount of time wasn't exactly normal, but he still had to ask her about the project.
“Erm...” he said. Nice. “Are you Mirriam? I have to- I'm Brandon.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes sparkling green as she smiled quietly. “I am indeed Mirriam.” Here, her dark eyebrows formed a curious arch as she made sure no one was listening. “Now, you're cute and everything, but who are you and why the hell are you following me?”
Brandon was immediately thrown a bit. He never quite expected the aura of Christine Daae to be so suddenly blunt. “Think of Me” quickly faded a bit as he struggled to think of a plausible excuse. She looked at him, her song becoming strangely louder in his mind as she did so. She was such an enigma to him! So strange, so unexplored! And by the clearing of her throat and the raising of her other eyebrow, he knew she felt similarly towards him.
“I-I'm Brandon Keim,” he said. “I'm from the programming department. I work here too.”
She sighed, rolling her intelligent looking green eyes.
“I know that,” Mirriam said. “You followed me in and through the park... that's not what I was asking, though. I was asking why you were still following me.”
Brandon didn't know he'd followed her through the park.
“Well, I thought maybe you might need help with drawing the newest battle gear.”
She laughed. Her laugh was nearly musical. Brandon liked it. “I am the head of the Art Department,” she said, “why would they hire a programmer to help me?”
He had offended her. Brandon saw it in the narrowing of her eyes and the impatient tapping of her foot, though he was slightly confused by the smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. She glanced at her silver watch, which matched the necklace which hung in a v-line over her collarbone. Summers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their season, so do we, the crackled on his dial. He suddenly remembered that though he was dying to find out why her song had changed, he was here for work. There was a moment of silence as his brown eyes met her green ones. The green eyes softened a bit, but there was still some suspicion behind them. Her lips formed a raisin to one side of her mouth. She knew that he was from the programming department and that they'd sent him for the graphic plans and illustrations, but she, too had an enigma to solve-- the enigma of the stalker boy.
“I'll tutor you,” she said, suddenly cheerful and joking. It almost seemed now like the two songs, Hershey's and Phantom merged on Brandon's radio now. Her smile was amused and brilliant. Brandon liked that, too. “Right now I'm busy, but you can come back tomorrow at noon, the cafe on the ground level. Does that work for you, Mr. Keim?”
He nodded. She smiled and began to turn away.
“Wait!” he said loudly enough to turn a few heads
She snickered a little. “Yes? I'm still here, Mr Keim.”
“I-- sorry. Can I give you my number? I might forget...”
Mirriam Brown laughed. “Well aren't you a sly dog?” She pulled out her cellphone and flipped it open. “What's the number?”
He told her his number. She grinned, shook her head in a you're-such-a-strange-man, sort of way, and turned back to her work. Brandon stood there for a moment, stunned. The two songs had combined and twisted together into a completely new song. Stay and smile, think for awhile. Every moment could pass you by! Put a smile on your face, one that I'll never erase, as you pause and think of me! It was a marvelous new tune that lingered in his mind as he left.
When noon came the following day, He was surprised to find he'd remembered her new song clearly and that it had developed a new piano accompaniment. It became pretty clear after ten minutes of tutoring that he couldn't need the help more. Mirriam wasn't really surprised by this, as she sort of already knew he was lying, and so she made a strange decision. She knew her friends were playing games tonight, and so she wondered--
“Hey, Brandon,” Mirriam asked, smiling. “it seems like you need these lessons more than you thought. Do you want to come over to my apartment and play some games? My friends were planning this fun round of improv games and they've been trying to get some new people coming to our little shindigs. We could get a few extra hours in for your lessons!”
Brandon's chocolate-colored eyes scrutinized her expression for a moment. He nodded.
“Sure, why not?”
After lunch, they returned to her desk where she showed him progress on the graphics, and then he returned and showed it to his boss. This was all done in a strange stupor. Mirriam Brown, the beautiful enigma, had asked him to a party at her house.
#
Brandon filled some of the empty spot of male in Mirriam's group of mostly female friends friends quite nicely. Though he was bashful and reluctant at the improv games, he soon found that he could easily make them laugh with inserting bits of song into dialogue. He enjoyed himself, and stayed much longer than he ought to have. Mirriam eventually went up to bed, and he left, all her friends smiling and waving and asking him to come back again sometime.
Though they'd planned on another “tutoring” session the next day, both departments were swamped as they raced to finish their halves of the project. Brandon kind of expected to see Mirriam at least once that day, and wanted to thank her for inviting him and such, but he didn't see her. She didn't call him all weekend, and when he finally saw her again on Monday, her song was silent. Completely silent. What was wrong with this girl?
After work, she passed him in the hall and rushed to the door. Brandon scrambled after her. When she saw him, the fake smile she gave him was alarmingly good. She meant to make him think nothing was wrong, but no one's song just turned off like that. He had to switch to a light jog to catch up with her in the crowd, bumping into lots of frustrated game designers on the way. He at last reached her side and slowed to a quick walk. She looked over quickly out of the corner of her eye and then away.
“Hey, Mirriam, what's up?”
Mirriam looked over at him, false surprise all over her features. This time, her smile curved at the corners in a strange sort of smirk. A phony, artificial sound filled his mind. It was like the Hershey's Song had switched to the AM frequency. It was coming down a tunnel; she was hiding something. But what? And why?
“Not much, Brandon, but I really have to go to an appointment.”
“Wait, Mirriam... I know that I don't know you well,” she laughed, her green eyes a little malicious, “ but I really want to. Will you have dinner with me sometime?”
She stopped, facing him suddenly. The false sounding notes of the Hershey's song faded for a moment as the rushing working class swerved to avoid them. She didn't seem to care much whether anyone bumped into her or flipped her off. Her green eyes were narrowed, though he couldn't really tell what that meant. A whiff of a girl power ballad came to his mind. He swallowed. It seemed that she really was either not used to boys asking her on dates, was completely opposed to the idea in general, but mostly she seemed bitter.
“So... are you asking me on a date, Brandon Keim?” Her mouth asked this, but her eyes asked if he was shallow, if he wanted more from her than she was willing to give. And the song asked that, too, though he swore he'd never heard Avril Lavigne sing this song before.
“Yes,” Brandon said, smiling in as innocent of a way as he could manage.
Her eyes immediately softened, and she smiled in a smug way that made him suddenly regret his decision.
“Alright, Brandon,” Mirriam said, “I'll go on a date with you, but we have to be back before nine.” She paused, holding out a hand to shake. “Deal?”
Brandon smiled, resisting a laugh. “Deal.”
#
Brandon took Mirriam to the local Mexican food place, Juanita's. Everyone knew they had the best tacos in a two-hundred mile radius, but when Mirriam walked in, it was clear she'd never been to Juanita's. Her eyes grew large as she examined the authentic-looking tile and ceiling. Brandon asked, and she affirmed his belief. They talked about Adrian D. Jasperson and about current projects and future ones. They talked briefly about her friends, and the ones he was particularly impressed with, and then they hesitantly left the comfort of Juan's Tacos.
It was then that Brandon noticed that her song had changed again. It had been a very long time since he'd heard Lisa Loeb, but he felt sure that it was her that sang as Mirriam chattered away. You say I only hear what I want to, he couldn't quite believe what that song seemed to say to him. He didn't realize that he was confusing this girl so much. If the change of her song was a reflection of things happening around her, then something was going on inside her that he really didn't understand. He really meant only to get to know her more, And I thought what I felt was simple, and I thought that I don't belong, and now that I am leaving, now I know that I did something wrong 'cause I missed you. She missed him? Or was her song about someone else?
“Don't worry about it,” she was saying, referring to his fear that he might not like his job, “You're here in life to learn and grow, and eventually, you'll find a place to belong, and you won't have to talk to this Age of Aquarius computer man anymore.”
It was funny the way he easily told her that Adrian just sort of reminded him of that song, rather that being actually represented by it.
“I know,” he said, “but you seem so happy with your life in graphic design.”
“I am happy with it, but that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't feel a little tired of it. I mean, fixing up a digital representation of armor on a videogame I rarely play isn't always fulfilling. What makes me excited is when we are allowed to create. I mean... when we're allowed to think up ideas for new games. It's all in how you approach it and how you feel about it. Do you want to be in game programming for your whole life? What is your dream song?”
I turned the radio on, I turned the radio up and this woman was singing my song. He realized then that he had no idea. Lover's in love, and the other's run away, lover is crying 'cause the other won't stay. He expressed the realization that he didn't know, then launched into a history of his career choices and why each didn't look so great to him anymore. He told her about his original goal of police officer, and how he realized that the only kind of cop he could be with his limp was one who did very little actual chasing, except maybe in the car. He told her about his brief and quickly extinguished wish to be an artist-- he quickly realized that he could barely lift a brush, not to mention using it! He went on and on until she interrupted him.
“You've got plenty of time to decide, Bren. Don't stress it.”
Suddenly, Mirriam's face became very solemn as she looked downward.
“So, I've been wondering. How--”
“How'd I get my limp? I was born with it,” he said, smiling slightly. “One of my legs is shorter than the other. I have an insert that's supposed to make it less obvious, but I don't think it works.”
“Oh,” was all she said, and she changed the subject.
I thought, "hey, I can leave, I can leave.” Oh, but now I know that I was wrong, 'cause I missed you. Yeah, I miss you!
She pursed her lips for a moment, which shone briefly with moisture as her eyes lit up with an idea. “Brandon, we really need to do more with your programming. What if we work a little later the next few days to get it done early?”
He was more than willing to do so. Both Wednesday and Thursday night he joined her in her open cubicle. Wednesday she spent a lot of time correcting simple errors in his programming, simply by reaching over his shoulder and showing him what she'd done with Photoshop and animation. Her long, dark hair, which was usually swept back in a ponytail, slipped off her shoulder and onto his. It surprised him. As he turned, a sweet sent filled his nostrils, and her Phantom-Hershey's song filled his mind again. He resisted the urge to pull his hands through the shinning strands, and she smiled over at him briefly when he stood to get a drink of water.
Thursday night she worked on some illustrations while he finished up the last part of his essay, though she kept glancing over at him and sketching very few finished drawings Today, Lisa Loeb's song was again replaced by silence. That is, until she pulled up a chair next to him and sat through the last part of his programming, fiddling with it in order to make it work a little better with her graphics. When she finished, she smiled at him. He smiled back.
“It's wonderful,” Mirriam said, and he felt sure she was referring to his finished product, “the way you stumbled into my life. I'm not even sure how you did it! Did you know that I'd just broken up with Joe when I first met you?” Think of me, the song crackled to another station again, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Her smile was bittersweet, “But you're so much nicer to me. “ Stay and smile...
Suddenly, she was very close to him. He realized no one else was in the computer lab. Her green eyes filled his view, warm and eager and smiling. ...Think for awhile. Every moment could pass you by! Put a smile on your face, one that I'll never erase... Her breath was sweet in his nostrils, and her song grew in intensity. He leaned forward and she leaned further, as you pause and think of me! She grabbed his mouth in hers and pressed their lips firmly together. She was suddenly in his lap, her hands winding around him, one in his hair and one on his arm. He'd never been kissed like this before, and it was all so very wet that for a moment, he didn't recognize it for what it was. His lips trembled a bit under hers, making her laugh a little as she drew back and leaned into his shoulder. Suddenly, his work was nothing to him. He was confused, and she could see it in his gleaming brown eyes. His eyes wandered all over her face, but couldn't seem to find a better place than her lips to settle. The lips curved into a smug grin and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his.
“You can kiss me back, if you'd like,” she said, and he could feel her pulse where her neck touched his shoulder. It was racing almost as fast as his was. And then he nodded and kissed her again, and this time he didn't think about the wetness of her lips, only of the full shape of them and the exhilaration it brought to him. He suddenly realized that what the boy wanted on the bench outside the park wasn't as horrible as it had once seemed, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on that. He kissed the mouth of Mirriam Brown over and over again, only vaguely aware of Lisa Loeb's song weaving itself around him triumphantly, his own clarinet fiasco of a song swirling about with it. And then, just as it had suddenly happened, it was over. His breath came heavily to him, and hers poured warmly into his neck.
After awhile, her eyes opened, “I should probably get going. You know, for such a hesitant kisser, you sure are amazing at it.” She sighed and kissed him one more time as if to prove it, letting her lips linger on his as she spoke.
“Remember... to save... your program, Brandon Keim... and I'll see you tomorrow. You have my number. Call me.”
Brandon didn't know what to say. Suddenly his life had just gotten really complicated and he wasn't sure what it all meant.
“Alright,” he said lamely, taking a look out the windows, which were dark. “I'll call you.”
She smiled widely, and the sight made him smile back. He didn't realize until she left that he probably should have offered her a ride home, so he called her and apologized. She didn't answer. He sent her a text message inquiring as to how she was the next morning ans she assured him she was fine, but warned him she might be busy. He didn't realize that this meant all week. When he finally did see her again, she was cold again and her song was gone. The green gaze he'd grown so fond of so quickly avoided his brown one, and her smile only flickered to life occasionally. She took him aside after her roommates went to sleep when they watched a movie one night.
“I can't be with you, Brandon Keim.” The hand he had around her shoulder dropped. His mind fell silent. There wasn't music anywhere. Not in him, not in her roommates; nowhere. Her eyes found his again, as if they expected him to say something. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to open his mouth. His entire face felt like lead.
“I'm leaving.”
“What?” he turned to her, tilting his head strangely.
“I found a job at Disney animating.”
He felt himself smile, “Well, that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?”
“Well, yes,” she said, but drew her eyes away, “but it's in California.”
“You really don't want to stay?”
“No,” she said, her eyes watering with doubt.
“I wish I could do something,” he said, “I wish I could come with you.”
“I know, but you can't,” she said sadly, her eyes wandering all over his face in an attempt to read its expression. “I have to be able to focus... these first two months or so are really rigorous, apparently.”
#
She never came back to GameTime Pro. Her seat sat empty and he would stare at it occasionally as he arranged things with the new Head of the Art Department. He text messaged her, but she didn't answer, except in one word answers. When he came over, she always glared a little and asked him to leave. When he called, she didn't answer and she never called back. One day, one of her roommates got a hold of her phone. When he saw it ringing, he opened it hesitantly and spoke urgently.
“Hello? Mirriam?”
“Actually, this is Amber. I just wanted to let you know that Mirriam doesn't hate you. This is her way of avoiding the pain she feels inside for leading you on and then dumping you on the side of the road like a sack of potatoes. I know that sounds lame, but I promise that's how she works. I'm sorry. My only suggestion is to stop trying to contact her for awhile. If you call her once she gets settled in Cali, she might be willing to talk.” The line went quiet for a moment, “She’s just in a state of shock right now… I think.”
#
Mirriam moved away the next day. He knew because when he stopped by her house, her car was gone. And the stickers on her window were gone. Gone. He kissed her and held her and for what? Nothing. Her song rose and twirled around him and then left him. And now the enigma returned to his life, but in a much less pleasant form. Why was there no more Mirriam Brown? He avoided the bench outside the Geoffrey P. Banks Park for a very long time. He thought of her once and a while; he really didn't have to try.

4 comments:

Anne Bradshaw said...

Looks like an interesting story, but unfortunately my screen doesn't pick up right to the end of the lines for some reason. Anyway, good luck with your writing.

Amy Dianne said...

Yeah, I posted it for a friend because he really wanted to read it, but in a hurry, so something weird happened with the formatting. I'll fix it eventually.

~*Becky*~ said...

You're a really good writer, Amy. Thanks for sending me a link to your blog. :)

Dani Marie said...

Wow. You're a really good writer. How's your novel coming? The one about Qatrina?