- Ear buds under the pillow.
 - The stubborneness of the gray.
 - Cold feet.
 - The unpicking of the legal language that made false the true things I had said.
 - How the car reads my phone's mind to play the music I had been listening to.
 - She says the neighbor was barbecuing when she went home for lunch and that's why her hair smells of smoke.
 - Needles and silver foil emergency blankets.
 - The calypso beat of the mood music takes me to the water.
 - The guy up next dozes in the lounge.
 - He's got a job mapping the burned food stuffs from the dig in Azoria. This is the joy of it.
 
Telling: Streams & Logs