Haley

A Chapter by Corey Coreys

After writing about the sad eyed surfer without a board, I moved my attention to my best friend sitting at my right. She was engaged in an interesting action, and I couldn't help

She has become the book. The world around her is silent, dead, but she is alive. Biting on her worn pink sweatshirt, the thrill builds. Breathing with the quotes, her mouth twitches as she swallows in anticipation. Her long, cold fingers play with the dogeared paper corners in a game of patient desire. Suddenly, like she's going to be sick, she rears up, straightening her back and blinks. When her roving eyes reopen, her fingers have brought about the next adventure, the next twist. Her brown muck shoes are silent, her hand is under her vibrating chin. She can not hear the words around her, not the clinking or swaying or the beating of her own heart. Just the words on the tan paper; just the story coming to life.

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