AI Images
57 posts in this category.
The barista’s thoughts are fuchsia today, all spiky and caffeinated. They stab into my temples like tiny disco lights.
“Jules! You need to see this!” Marcus’s voice echoes through the limestone passage, bouncing off walls that haven’t heard human sounds in… well, maybe ever.
The thing about being a guardian of imaginary friends is that you have to be very patient. And sturdy.
The ice cap calves another segment into the copper-colored sea, and I log it in my report.
“As you can see,” I say, sliding the photos across my desk, “it’s a lovely three-bedroom Colonial with original hardwood floors and a recently updated kitchen.”
The dust rises with each step, dancing in the weak sunlight that filters through broken windows.
The walkway stretches out before me like an endless diving board into the sunset.
The tiles speak to me in the language of luck and fate.
“Try not to geek out too hard,” Vex tells me as our ship settles onto what used to be Central Park. “It’s unprofessional.”
“Your productivity is down twelve percent this quarter,” my boss says, shuffling papers on her desk while I try not to make it rain in her office. Again.
The thing about working retail is that nothing surprises you anymore.
The thing about being a fake psychic is that you’re supposed to be the one making stuff up, not the universe making stuff up for you.
The first proposal of the night happens exactly seven minutes after the fireworks begin.
The islands dance their slow waltz above me, white stone and yellow grass swaying to music I’ve spent my life trying to hear...
“Look, Mr. Penumbra,” I say, flipping through my rainbow-tabbed binder labeled ‘MONSTER MATCHES LLC.’
“He hasn’t spoken since October,” I tell Sarah, watching steam rise from our coffee mugs.
My knees protest with each step up the rocky path, a familiar complaint after thirty years of this daily climb...