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throw that pussy like i'm famous
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((Omar Burton continued from Ten Shades of Gray))

It was the opposite of what Omar should be doing. But it gave him room to think. Maybe he’d been too hasty. His hands still itched from the gun’s quake a day later. He’d been proud of how easy killing came at first. It only took a quick tug, and the rest was outside him. He was almost proud of hearing his name, too. It was a concreted achievement. He took action. He felt it all and knew he could do it. He was ready, for himself and for Sierra. But would she know that? All she got was his name. Could she tell it was for her? Even if she did, would she embrace it? She had to. She knew him, more than anyone she knew him and she had to know. If she didn’t, she’d know as soon as he found her. But then there was the rest of Bayview. His intentions made him no better to them. They were a collective obstacle, even with the gun. They had to be avoided for now. He’d been effective at it so far. He’d seen a dead soul or two but not a living one. He kept an eye and an ear and every other sense open for Sierra, though. He’d so hoped to hear her voice but was luckless so far. God, did he need her. He should have been looking for her. He needed to be looking for her.

But he’d been grabbed to the strangest sensation to look at the stars and he just couldn’t move himself yet.

He had hiked fairly high up but the incline he was on was mellow. He was flat on his back against the dark soil. His bags were within reach by his side. The gun was in the smaller, the black L.L. Bean bag with O.B. stitched across the top in white. He hadn’t looked at it since being declared a murderer. He wasn’t sure why. He was afraid it had somehow changed, he supposed. He knew it was silly. He was the same, after all, so why shouldn’t the gun be? But he was afraid of the change, of losing what he had worked so hard for, and he knew all too well that nothing was constant.

Like the stars. They were old light, in the same places for all of human history, maybe the most concrete thing we have. But they never stopped changing. Their own lifecycles aside (many of them were likely long dead already), the universe expands so much faster than the speed of light, pushing everything apart with it. Every second the stars are farther away and their light takes longer to reach us. Eventually, the earth will be evading their rays entirely, unable to fill the stretching in between fast enough. Soon there would be no stars. For Omar they would be gone even sooner. Maybe that’s why he stopped.

He closed his eyes to see Sierra instead. She was brighter than any star he knew of. Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art. She too was always moving farther away. But he would be fast. He could be faster than all of them. He tried to draw her more vividly. He went over her warm tea eyes, her sienna hair. He traced her nose and her full lips and the line of her jaw. The contour of her neck. The curves of her breasts and hips and legs. Her smile, most of all her smile, over and again, awake for ever in a sweet unrest.

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever- or else swoon to death.

He couldn’t help but blame her a little.

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instinct•algorithm · The Mountain