The only question left to ask is: how much fits between hello and goodbye? How many worlds are almost born out of the chance meetings on street corners; how many universes are destroyed when the bus pulls up and takes you away too soon?

When you see her face in the back window, when you see her hand disembodied and waving as you drive away, you owe it to yourself to wonder.

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note: these are miscellaneous, very short pieces written between summer 2008 and summer 2009. there is no connection between them.