Either Things Grow And Change Or They

He Had Never Even Glimpsed Her.

A Moment Was Not A Single Moment At All, But Rather An Infinite Number Of Different Moments, Depending On Who Was Seeing Things And How.

Her Voice, High And Clear, Moved Through The Leaves, Through The Sunlight. It Splashed Onto The Gravel, The Grass. He Imagined The Notes Falling Into The Air Like Stones Into Water, Rippling The Invisible Surface Of The World. Waves Of Sound, Waves Of Light: His Father Had Tried To Pin Everything Down, But The World Was Fluid And Could Not Be Contained.

They Turned A Distracted Gaze On The World, Wide-eyed, Somehow, And Questioning.

It Seemed There Was No End At All To The Lies A Person Could Tell, Once She Got Started.