Cecil was his world, Cecil was his light, Cecil was his everything.
Everything Cecil wants, Cecil gets.
This was Planet Cecil.
For the 5 year old paper doll and the 64-year-old man.
Formalistic to her, and to her alone.
This is Cecil.
She was adorned with all sorts of condiments, flowers, girly stuff; sugar, spice and everything nice?
Day and night he rued her, unfathomably he rued her. More vivacious than ever, he fell in love.
Such loneliness has the tenacity to provoke such adherence. The probabilistic similarity to that of love, of affection, of lust, of desire and of other such adjectives.
Charlie played Bad English's 'When I see you smile'. And as he was humming the bass line to the chorus, his eyes stung. Blinking out tears, he thought of every moment he had spent with Cecil, from when he first crafted her, to this very moment.
Author's note: Actually, I see many possibilities to continue and end this very boring, very plain, very, very stale story. So I leave it to you to give me suggestions to continue from here :)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment