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...

The bitchin' moon, cold-ass rock hung over the citywhere the shadows held secrets, the forbidden...Shestepped closer, her scent of asphalt and smoke. Herfingers, traced the line of his jaw, and entered hismaw where his pulse wouldn't thaw in proximity....

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...