a point should be made
She wondered how many more nights would end this way.
a just people would make another world
Dave spends a lot of nights alone, trying to remember the idealism he felt as a young man, or the taste of a particular bottle of scotch.
a letter to try and end this
Some nights Johnnie will roll himself a joint, get a little high, and reread old breakup letters that ex-girlfriends have sent him, and he will remember their different hairstyles, which matched whatever lifestyle he was trying on that year.
a word most would not say
So many nights Charlie had almost told her that he loved her, but it was always so complicated, her situation or his own. Better just to get through dinner and then reconnect in the hotel room. Enjoy each other just enough without going too far.
a little sound for each of us
Some nights end with a bang, other nights just whimper.
a name to call your own
Some nights Anna wakes up thinking he’s still alive, even though he only made it those few years. She finds herself planning a birthday party they will never celebrate. She feels a whole life still growing in the air around her like an unfinished novel or a phantom limb.
a change of sentence set to page
How many nights had Howard spent at diplomatic functions like this one, trying to avoid being noticed by his superiors, trying to fit like just another square peg. Sometimes he thought about tipping over a vase, or spilling a drink on the ambassador’s wife, or insulting one of the spooks, just to shake things up, break protocol for the sake of it.
a great work should follow
Roger never really enjoyed the nights he went out with his friends in the avant-garde crowd. They always seemed to be trying too hard to say something they didn’t know how to say that mattered in a really obscure way, and none of them could really have their hearts in it, not after punk rock and nine eleven.
a man with no need to ask why
It was one of those nights when he was shocked at the extent his own naïveté. Dave found himself at an ATM at 4AM withdrawing $300, and he hadn’t even realized she was a pro. Worth it, sure, but the outfit should have been a clue.
a different world must follow our own
Some nights when he finds himself out at a club for no particular reason, surrounded by the kind of friends he only sees when he’s holding an eight ball, dancing with some anorexic waif who won’t wake up remembering where she spent the night, Johnnie imagines himself a human sacrifice laid at the altar of some apocalyptic hedonist god. Then he sneaks off to the john for another quick snort from his silver bullet.