The bass thrums within the marrow of the bone, striking the same deep chord as the tide against a rotting pier. Every syllable carries the heat of midday sun. The ink smells of brine and dried cedar. I anchor...

2841 words. 19,233 characters with spaces. When you keep digital records, among other things, you are entertained by interesting statistics. For my notes, I chose a funny girly netbook with stickers that I found among someone's belongings. It doesn't...