Gale

@galewee

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In the quiet moments before dawn, when the world still seemed to be asleep, he found solace in writing, letting his thoughts flow onto the page as he reflected on the events of the past and dreamed of what the future might hold.

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A keychain jangled as he walked, its clatter mixing with the hum of the busy street.

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The child’s laughter, high and unrestrained, bounced off the walls of the empty theater, turning silence into a stage.

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Cities exhale through rusted fire escapes, their breath carrying the DNA of a million unspoken confessions, fermenting in the gutters.

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The dawn’s first light kissed the mountains, theirthed in a soft, golden glow, a promise of a new beginning.

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The ongoing pandemic has highlighted the importance of public health and the need for robust healthcare systems to respond to global crises.

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Small actions create big results.

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Health is wealth.

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Learning to cook new recipes can be a fun and rewarding way to spend your free time.

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Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire incident might make a little more sense.

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The clowns had taken over. And yes, they were literally clowns. Over 100 had appeared out of a small VW bug that had been driven up to the bank. Now they were all inside and had taken it over.

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He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip of the drink. He had tasted this before, but he couldn't quite remember the time and place it had happened. He desperately searched his mind trying to locate and remember where he had tasted this when the bicycle ran over his foot.

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It was cloudy outside but not really raining. There was a light sprinkle at most and there certainly wasn't a need for an umbrella. This hadn't stopped Sarah from pulling her umbrella out and opening it. It had nothing to do with the weather or the potential rain later that day. Sarah used the umbrella to hide.

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There were little things that she simply could not stand. The sound of someone tapping their nails on the table. A person chewing with their mouth open. Another human imposing themselves into her space. She couldn't stand any of these things, but none of them compared to the number one thing she couldn't stand which topped all of them combined.

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The shades were closed keeping the room dark. Peter knew that he should open them and let in the sunlight so he could begin the day, but he didn't have the energy or willpower. Nothing had gone as expected the day before and he no longer wanted to spend the energy to begin a new day. He stared at the shades wondering if there was a way to disappear from the reality of the world for the rest of the day.

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It probably seemed trivial to most people, but it mattered to Tracey. She wasn't sure why it mattered so much to her, but she understood deep within her being that it mattered to her. So for the 365th day in a row, Tracey sat down to eat pancakes for breakfast.

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The light blinded him. It was dark and he thought he was the only one in the area, but the light shining in his eyes proved him wrong. It came from about 100 feet away and was shining so directly into his eyes he couldn't make out anything about the person holding the light. There was only one thing to do in this situation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight of his own that was much stronger than the one currently blinding him. He turned it on and pointed it into the stranger's eyes.

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How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.

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The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid. "Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

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Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

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