The Value of a Dollar Several winters ago, after a major blizzard, I learned about a different kind of value that money can possess. The lesson began with some simple research, namely, catching the local weather report three days earlier. The forecast warned of a storm that would dump at least a foot of snow upon the ground by the following morning and would only worsen from that point onward. For once, much to the dismay of many a viewer, the forecasters had been right. The snow uninterruptedly fell from late Friday night until early Monday morning, leaving about a foot of snow per day in its wake.The Value of a Dollar by SpaceKoyote
The aftermath resembled a frozen tundra, far more suited to the polar bear ilk than to the ill-prepared urbanite. Every city along the Northeastern coast had been effectively shut down–including my own little neighborhood. Cars parked in the street seemingly blended into the landscape, becoming perceivable only as gently-shaped mounds huddled
Under the Hood I felt a surge of adrenaline as she brushed past me to grab the dipstick. Her one hand submerged up to the wrist in the car’s engine, while the other rested a scant few inches from my own. Somehow, the smell of her sweet perfume managed to reach me through the overpowering stench of burnt motor oil. I could hear her making a faint, feminine “grunt” as she pulled the measuring device from its housing. All I wanted at that moment was to remain there, drinking in all of those wonderful sense experiences.Under the Hood by SpaceKoyote
She read the dipstick before wiping it off on her already blackened t-shirt. I remember feeling myself start to blush, for my eyes had wandered from her midsection (where she had cleaned the dipstick) to her more than ample bosom. The excessively tight t-shirt left little to the imagination. I caught myself before anything embarrassing “popped up,” and tried to focus my attention elsewhere.
Post-Hypodermic Musings The slight sting began to subside as I shifted in the chair. Across the desk from me, typing away at her computer, sat Kim. I had always described her as female perfection with just a hint of punk-rock goddess. Her beauty easily rivaled that which inspired Poe’s “To Helen” and the ancient, Greek namesake thereof. Her hair glistened an unnatural shade of red, bordering on metallic. Her ears had no less than three piercings to each and ivy tattoos encircled her right wrist and left bicep. All her fingers were adorned with rings (including thumbs) save the all important one. An elongated face gave her the appearance of haughtiness; an appearance reinforced by her presently, perfunctory attitude. Fortunately, I knew her well enough to see the warmth and intellect that her gorgeous, albeit arrogant, features belied.Post-Hypodermic Musings by SpaceKoyote
Having completed her typing, she turned her attention towards me and said, “T
|My background is predominantly in videography, but have dabbled in other areas of graphic design for some time. Recently returned to school to expand my knowledge base and change careers. I love to write and am looking forward to bringing some of my stories and characters to life.|