The pencil slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. As he leaned over to retrieve it the throbbing againts his forehead and temples deepened. His fingers attempted to pick the already slick pencil up but the task almost became impossible with the sweat permeating from his palms.
After about three attempts he finally felt a solid grasp and pushed himself back up to once again be face to face...
Leaving. What is leaving? Leaving is a losing. Not necessarily losing like in a game of chess or a cricket match. Its having something or someone that you hold to be of value to you to be gone. Could be forever, or temporarily. But you feel it though. You feel it deep in the valleys of your emotions as that value that some way meant something to you either now or at some point in your life, slips ...
The console was buzzing from the fan now spinning violently just trying to keep it from overheating. Three of us were energetically and unconstitutionally determined to take down the fourth player.
Slight grunts and sighs from fingers mashing the buttons on each controller indicated that we were giving it our all to take down the collective foe. Trevor and his freakin pikachu had to be stopped. ...
The pulsating throb from Dossen’s palm was a reminder that shit had officially hit the fan. His tense stiff trigger finger was giving out. Damn fucking bugs. The hell his men had to go through to keep the colony safe wasn’t worth the lifeless soil it sat on.
Burning batteries were a smell him and his squad were all too familiar indicating him to drop his clip and hurriedly grabbed a replacement ...
