There’s a boy (well, man; despite what you see him as he is definitely a man) that is always beside your bed when you wake up in the white, white hospital room. He’s usually close to holding your hand, but not quite: as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear when he touches you.

You know the workings of your career. Be nice, passive aggressive, and you can move up quickly. So far you've come along well and you can finally see your work come alive, but there's one person who can't seem to accept how you do business...  

To say you have always wondered what could have been would be an understatement, same with not wanting to find out. At the very least, if he does happen to cross your path you hope to whatever divine being is playing these cruel jokes that he won’t be able to recognize you. Just the thought makes your eyes clench shut and the grip on your glass to become deathly. This is your praying face, and you are a coward.

You’ve weaved your own world with perfect rows of threading. The sheet was tangled and torn, but now that it’s fixed the skeletons of your closet can be blanketed in a neat, inconspicuous darkness. Too bad it’s flimsy and the slightest tug by an outside source can whisk it away and remind you of an inescapable truth; imperfection.  

 A word, a phrase, does it really matter what people hear? Discovery is a theme, but it can also be a beginning.

  You are his friend, one of his closest friends, a childhood friend. As you both grew older you remained close, as close as friends could get. He was like family, if not by blood then by some other means. But things are different now. It's a bit heavier than the rocks, and a bit deeper than the ocean.

It’s inescapable; it’s undeniable; and it always knows the truth, your heart.   Sequel to It's Intrinsic   I suggest you read it because, really, I'm not going to give you the background ;D

You like to think of your morning train ride home from work as a sort of gateway. It’s always early in the morning, around four or five, and there’s a type of mysterious grey that blankets over the seats and the world outside. Normally, people don’t come on at this time, so it comes as a surprise when you hear slow dragging footsteps enter the train.