Salamandarama

He was an easier catch than I would have thought. The kid, the man now, looking around and less “up”, more “down”.

I never would have guessed this was the same dude, as used to kick it hard when we were youths, running up and down, ambition in our blood and never sleeping, only resting when we took a breath, the harsh lights shining on the sweat that ran down our faces, savaging doubt as we ran ourselves into the ground. We were young then, and blood ran thin, mixed with alcohol. No need for worry. No need for fear. I spat into the eyes of Gods, and kept my brother near.

Look at him now. I once looked up to him, now, as we sit, opposite sides of the table, quiet companionship, I cannot help but reach into the past and grab with both hands, hoping, somehow, that I can find what once was here and now.

Perhaps we’re done. Close the door and put out that damned light, before I hurt someone.

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About dcduell

Failed musician. Trying to write for TV. Never sure quite where I'm headed. Serial un-funnyman. I used to do a lot of writing. Sometimes I still do. So I decided to put it on the internet. I'm on Facebook and Twitter. Pretty active on the former, not so much on the latter. Holler at me.
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