11-23-2017, 03:35 PM
[align=center][div style="font-size: 8.25pt; text-align: justify; width: 480px; line-height:14px"]Sami didn't attach many adjectives to death. Certainly to the person who did the dying (stupid, foolish, reckless, brave) but not to death. Death was an end, and sometimes there was another story on the pages following. If that was true, Sami didn't know of it. He only knew what followed death here in this world: mourning, adjusting, and moving on. He was a sourpuss to everyone who knew him, but he could miss people, particularly the good ones. Sami loved people, too. One specific person stood out in his mind, and like the Icarus of old, he'd gone too close to the sun. An incredibly bitter part of Sami thought it was ironic that someone so bright would die because of it. Blinded by his own shine, Sami thought. He hated remembering these things. He was a monument for their memories, all those dead along his road, and he didn't want to be.
If he could figure out a way to laugh, it would be easier. But there was something wrong with him so that humor fell short, and everything trite. The toll of living as he had, perhaps.
He was too preoccupied hating the Christmas decorations anyway. They were too loud and obnoxious. Sami was sorely tempted to tear everything down and blame it on a thief. But, as he was deliberating on the merits of playing bah-humbug, he found company and wished he hadn't. He wasn't a social butterfly. Sami had more in conmon with what ate butterflies, and it looked like this feline ate barely anything. Skin and bones, he was. And missing a limb. Sami's front left stump quivered in sympathy. Chuffing, the tortoiseshell moved closer with an austere expression. [color=maroon]'Well? What are you here for? If you're going to keel over, kindly do it far away from me."
If he could figure out a way to laugh, it would be easier. But there was something wrong with him so that humor fell short, and everything trite. The toll of living as he had, perhaps.
He was too preoccupied hating the Christmas decorations anyway. They were too loud and obnoxious. Sami was sorely tempted to tear everything down and blame it on a thief. But, as he was deliberating on the merits of playing bah-humbug, he found company and wished he hadn't. He wasn't a social butterfly. Sami had more in conmon with what ate butterflies, and it looked like this feline ate barely anything. Skin and bones, he was. And missing a limb. Sami's front left stump quivered in sympathy. Chuffing, the tortoiseshell moved closer with an austere expression. [color=maroon]'Well? What are you here for? If you're going to keel over, kindly do it far away from me."
[align=center][div style="font-family:georgia; font-size:8.4pt; letter-spacing:-.5px; color:black; width:400px; text-align:justify; line-height:13px"][size=12pt]loath·ing
/ˈlōT͟HiNG/
noun
lllll a feeling of intense dislike or disgust; hatred.
lllll"the thought filled him with loathing"
[color=transparent]lllllsynonyms: hatred, detestation, abhorrence,
lllllantipathy, dislike, hostility, malice, aversion
/ˈlōT͟HiNG/
noun
lllll a feeling of intense dislike or disgust; hatred.
lllll"the thought filled him with loathing"
[color=transparent]lllllsynonyms: hatred, detestation, abhorrence,
lllllantipathy, dislike, hostility, malice, aversion