Cane, walked in the front door with what barely passed as a motorcycle helmet under his arm. He instinctively turn down the hippie music as he passed by the turntable, grunted good evening to the living room crowd, tossed the helmet into a pile of clothes in a far corner, then walked into the kitchen. Staring out absently into the back yard, Cane tore open a small bag of peanut M&Ms and downed what was to pass as dinner as if he were ingesting some vile medicine.

"No one gets out of life unscathed," the snail said, surprising me a bit.

"I never thought I would see you again, old friend."

"Never is a long time," he said, looking a bit more subdued and weather-worn than the last time I saw him.

some revolutions
tiptoe in, quiet and damp
not needing our help

Emily woke early, some mildly startling dream countering the intoxication of sleep.
Early morning was her favorite time of day, lying still in bed, the beginnings of a purr from her cat Muffin curled up on her neck, the occasional whirring sound of early commuters driving by outside. She lay peacefully, before the welcomed weight of Muffin was replaced with the burden of the new day.