Square Peg loves Lightbulb

So when are you moving out? You said last night you wanted to move out, Lightbulb says.
Square Peg says he doesn’t really want to move out, that he was just desperate.
Square Peg wishes things would be different is all, but Square Peg’s mind is all BSOD and he couldn’t describe different to save a life.
Lightbulb says a few more things.
Square Peg has to leave for work.
Traffic is light.

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Square Peg loves Obsidian

Square peg is driving obsidian to the slaughterhouse. It’s still dark outside, a November dark that swallows headlights and streetlights, and the windows keep fogging up.
Obsidian is crying and they’re stuck behind a truck in the slow lane and traffic keeps passing them. Square peg says, “it’s all my fault.”
He remembers a time back in college sitting in a middle lane at a red light in the passenger seat of a friend’s Barracuda, stoned, while fire trucks passed them on either side, red lights flashing and sirens everywhere.
Now that’s getting passed.
This is nothing here, square peg thought.
“I just have the bad habit of rushing you in the morning,” square peg said. “I’ve done that all your life. I have to stop doing that.” He tried to explain.
Obsidian kept crying. She cried all the way to the slaughterhouse.

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Night walk

Where is this going?
I sleep at odd hours, to avoid your dreams; I’m not usually out at this time. It’s midnight and I’m surprised to see some of the neighbors are still up, their house lights still burning.
But the streets are empty as I head out of the village. I stagger a little as I walk down the sidewalk.

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Safe

We’re all doctors here on the moon.

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Apery

Butterneck. Jesus.
She just laughed and finished cleaning her revolver and put it back into the box.
You’ve been talking to my mom, I said.
She locked the box and threw away the key, which was good because just that morning I’d gotten out of bed and made my coffee in the dark, heavy with the knowledge that if I had a gun, I’d stand in front of my easel and finally get something interesting on the canvas.

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Sample

Just that morning I’d been complaining to my wife about having no friends; then of course three sent me nice emails at work, and now here I was having sushi with another friend.

“I don’t know why,” she said. “I just enjoy humiliating people. Is that the word? Humiliate? Insult, whatever. It’s just the way I am.”

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If it weren’t a workday

If it weren’t a workday and if you weren’t sick I’d build you an igloo.

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