Black Holes: A Fictional Narrative

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As I lay on the brown corduroy sofa from the 8o’s I look up at the ceiling, listening to Tyler practice the guitar in his bedroom down the hall. A deep sigh escapes my mouth and I roll off the couch, cringing as I hit the floor. “Why the fuck did I do that?” I groan quietly as I lay on the ground, the rough carpet pressing into my skin. “Are you okay?” A grin spreads across my face as I look up and see Miles standing in the doorway. His once dark blue jeans are now faded with a hole starting to form in the right knee and his grey t-shirt making him look tanner than he really is. Deep blond hair, falling just past his ears and blue eyes that could melt the heart of any one, not that he’d notice. “Hun, I’m laying face down on the floor,” I sigh. He just shakes his head, walking over to my limp body, sprawled across the carpet and he extends his hands to me. “It’s about time,” I joke, “I’ve been stuck here for hours.” …show more content…

Miles pulls me to my feet. “That is interesting. Did you know that time is just a concept people made up so they could try and manage their lives in the most efficient,” I use air quotes when I say, “efficient,” “way but all they did is give themselves one more thing to stress out about. It sucks that we’re in the collective them,” I say, using air quotes again when I say,

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