He had a voice as big as the sky: it ran from lunar-gray to sun-lathed. When listening to him, she felt both the calm and excitement of a bell being struck. On the handful of occasions that she heard him sing, she wanted to laugh from the joy of it.
She loved him with her heart, which was a pump, constantly recycling its matter into energy. But the system faltered when hearts were divided. And lovers spread carnage at the speed of light.
He was married to another woman, she to another man. Depending on the day, this a priori arrangement felt more or less pressing than the fact of their love. He and his wife had three children; she and her husband had two. But one would have done it.
They were both good people, if there is such a thing.
They never consummated the affair. Not so much as a kiss betrayed them. Later, she came to regard their abstinence as a mistake. Longing didn’t care a fig for the welfare of husbands or wives or even young children. Longing was a gawping, greedy mouth, and when it didn’t get what it wanted, it would gnaw on the soul like a dirty dog.
Weeks after his family moved away, the ringing started in her ears. Dizzy spells followed. She wasn't crazy, but she felt like she was. The difference was theoretical.
Because everywhere she went now, she had to carry it.
Blood-blue. Church quiet.
Post-grad neuroscience student Daisy Lockhart has never been short on brains, but after her longtime boyfriend, Andy Templeton, dumps her through e-mail, she is short on dreams. Alone for the first time in six years, Daisy allows herself to finally be an individual instead of half of a couple. On a mission towards self-discovery, new adventures, and healing her wounded soul, Daisy travels to Paris. Upon her arrival, she meets Mathieu, a mysterious intellectual with a carefree spirit, and Daisy begins to experience the passion and the fulfillment she craves. Daisy's tense battle between possible love and her newly found freedom forces her to decide what she really wants.
Click on the cover to visit the book's Amazon page.
12 comments:
"She loved him with her heart, which was a pump, constantly recycling its matter into energy."
"They were both good people, if there is such a thing."
"She wasn't crazy, but she felt like she was. The difference was theoretical."
Oh, yes it's Sarah Hina all right.
Really like this, the line about the bell - exciting and calming - so good.
Aniket, I could listen to you repeat my lines all day!
Thanks, you.
Teresa, I appreciate that. Thank you!
What do you think my plan is to do after retiring?
I'll sit on my porch, my old and grumpy self, and I'll read out from the Book of Hina, to any a willing ear.
And when they go - Wow!, I'll say - Yeah. She is my friend. How 'bout that?
I will be proud and honored to be the gibberish you spout that everyone else ignores.
"That's just Thakkar, talking about pumps again."
Lovely, piece, Sarah. You pulled me into the story and ended so beautifully with "Blood-blue. Church quiet." Nice.
Lovely as always Sarah. So many good lines.
Paul
Darrelyn, that's very kind of you to say. Thank you.
Paul, thanks. I'm glad I got it in before this head cold struck!
I'm with Aniket. This is classic Sarah Hina, which means lyrical and heartbreaking and lovely and pitch perfect.
Just gorgeous, Sarah.
Jennifer, thank you for that.
I need to look at a novel as just a series of flash pieces, I think. :)
As always, the imagery you create in so few words is captivating! Thanks for sharing!
~Jana A.
Thank YOU, Jana!
:)
Post a Comment