The happening that happened was that I met this girl.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.

One wild card was yet to be played.

You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

That's typically what writers do; we just sit around complaining most of the time. And the better things are going, the more they complain.

One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.