chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things


Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. Lark’s eyes shifted to watch the gardener haul the green hose across the lawn.
Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. Huge coils slung over his shoulder and a dozen feet of hose trailing on the grass behind him, he leaned into the work as if towing a reluctant mule. Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. The lawn was clipped and weedless, sloping gradually away from her, away from the walkway and the benches, down toward the river, where it seemed to disappear. Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. A seagull chortled from the roof ridge behind her and then wheeled into sight, banking downstream, laughing. Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. The sun warmed the back of her freckled hands where they rested, one on each thigh, her feet and knees tucked tightly together. She canted forward slightly from the waist and seemed to be on the verge of rising, her hands pressing down to lever her free of the bench, free of the gravity that held her motionless. Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten…

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