#22: The Clouds Gather

Gathering clouds above our heads look like rain. They hide the sun and make everything completely hazy.

The people all around us bundle up. Scarves, hats, and jackets so thick so their tender skin is hidden from the cold.

Their hearts are also hidden from one another.

Will the clouds ever part and the sun return, or will we be doomed to be lonely forever?

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#21: Hardcover

Get to know me,

I know you can.

I may look tough on the outside,

Or bored,

Or untouchable.

On the inside,

I am full of secrets.

Just look past my hardcover

To find the goodness inside.

#20: Rules

Sometimes rules are rigid,

Hard lines, set in stone,

that should not be crossed.

Sometimes rules are limp,

As easily arranged as wet noodles,

Vague and malleable.

Other times,

Rules are set to keep us down,

Keep us in place,

Scared to fight for what we want.

Those rules,

More like guidelines,

Should be crossed.

Draw your own line.

Make your own rules.

Be who you want to be.

#18: Unread

Things used to be easier when letters were sent physically. Sure, it would take longer, and there might be the off chance it wasn’t delivered.

But at the same time, you wouldn’t know if they had left your message unread.

Somehow, the little red notification under every message I send is more painful the longer it goes on.

Will everything I send you remain unread?

#17: Calculated

It should have been easy.

Calculate all the variables, all the things that could go wrong during their daring escape. Calculate when the guards would be patrolling that area of the museum. Calculate how many minutes it would take for them to disarm the security system for the modern arts wing, how long it would take to lift the protective covering, also with its own added security, and then lift the painting before anyone got suspicious.

It should have been easy to calculate all that. From the time the heist began to the time she would be staring at the priceless painting in her secret lair should have been under 45 minutes.

But then, as she was playing the distraction, in case anyone did come around asking questions, she ran into him.

There was no way she could have calculated how the slope of his jaw could have ruined their entire plan, nor how his need to help her find the ancient Egypt exibit (the farthest from the modern art wing) would have saved the plan as the words bumbled their way out of her mouth.

Yes, the painting looked nice next to all of her other stolen artifacts, but if she had calculated a little better, she might have reached the answer to the entire equation.

His phone number.

#16: The New Guy

The new guy wipes his hands on his pants to get rid of the sweat that coats his palms. He stares up at the faded sign above the doorway, takes a deep breath and jumps right in.

He was hired to make things better for the company, and just from what he’s seen, they need it.

“You must be the new guy,” the receptionist says before he can introduce himself properly. “They’re already waiting for you.”

He goes through the door that she points toward and finds several older men in suits staring at him as he enters, their faces drawn and old and tired.

“Welcome in.” One of the older guys droned, not looking excited to have new blood at all. “You’ve got a lot to prove.”

Whatever needed to be done, he would do it. He was the new guy after all.