We lay in the field, Samantha and I, watching the clouds pass by. She points at almost every single one, telling me all the things she sees.
“Look, there, at that one,” she says. “That one looks like the house we’ll have one day.”
I look at the cloud she says is our house. I nod.
She points to another. “And that one is our dog. He looks like a Sprocket. That’s a good name, don’t you think?”
I look at the cloud that is Sprocket. I nod again.
“Oh! Those over there are us playing with our three children. We look so happy. Do you see them?”
I look at the clouds of Samantha and me with our three children. I nod.
But all the nods were lies. All I could see were elephants.
I stood in the record store while Mary thumbed through the countless albums stacked on the shelves. As we wound our way up and down each aisle, Mary looking for that one specific record she was missing but could never find, I listened to the owner justifying the store’s existence to every customer that came to the counter.
“Vinyl just sounds better,” he said. “Simple as that.”
“You’ll always need physical media. Always,” he said to the man next in line.
Each customer agreed politely with the owner, then happily left the store with their records in hand.
When it was our turn at the counter, I asked the owner for directions to a restaurant nearby that Mary and I had heard about and wanted to try.
“Sorry, man. I don’t know how to get there,” said the owner.
“That’s all right,” I said. “My iPod has GPS.”
Nicole loved to gaze at the stars. She told me it was her favorite thing in the world to do.
So I climbed to the top of the tallest mountain and picked down all the stars I could reach, and made them into a necklace. Starlight gleamed from the box as Nicole slowly cracked it open. I could tell by the sparkle in her eyes it was the most amazing gift she’d ever been given, and it felt so good that I’d been the one to give it to her.
“It’s so beautiful!” she said, then looked up at the night sky and sighed. “But the sky is so dark now.”
Some people are just impossible to please.
Every morning he stood looking in the bathroom mirror. With each new morning, he grew to hate the reflection he saw more and more. He hated the man who was looking back at him – the man doing nothing with his life; going nowhere.
He wanted to change that man, so he smashed the mirror.
Shards of mirror fell into the sink and over the bathroom counter. He looked into them. The reflection was different now. He saw a face that was new. Maybe this was the man he had been looking for. Maybe this man would make something of his life.
In the scattered shards of the broken mirror, the man looked something like a monster. At least the reflection was different now.