Eden wonders if Cain is able. — Eden doesn’t know Cain’s full name. She doesn’t know where he lives, where he’s from, what he does for a living. All she knows is that he earns his keep. In one way or another, everyone pays their dues. But she also knows that there are some that can never…

Old habits for old friends. — Eden loves John. She realizes with a sudden sinking feeling, that her feelings for him have yet to diminish. Even after all that passed. Time. Travels. Others. She still thinks “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” is bullshit. Sure, Eden can admit…

Torn between desire and conquest as a pawn in the game of love. — University Avenue runs long and cuts from Summer Street to South Street. At most, it’s 30 miles. It is occupied by many residents. Renters contend with vinyl and metal siding. Stucco defines prosperous proprietors. The alleys are narrow but wide enough for vagrants and vendors. One minute, they brace hasty…

If only John could catch the star within, Eden would grant his every wish. — Eden takes a seat. Amidst unruly troves, a vacant bench is an oasis in the airport. Her eyes dart to other arrivals who scurry along conveyers and kiosks. Travel arouses her sense of wonder. Movies evoke the same curiosity. …

With him, she is under aural siege among the stars. — Eden wonders if the truth is the way to go today. Dewy shadows take shape in rays thrown out from the sunrise. They peal through the windows, a chill contrast to dawn’s repose and the frost that chisels the pane despite the heater Ava cranks. …

Yearning retains what she wants to forget. — Eden loves kiwis. They soften when they ripen. She remembers reading somewhere that they’re rich in vitamins which ward off colds, which is just as well since they thrive in winter. Snow absorbs sound. Air enclosed between snowflakes attenuates vibration which mutes ambient noise. …

Everyone needs someone to cover new ground. — Eden finds herself inshore a coastal gorge overlooking the Bay of Fundy. The gulf subsumes a coastal tide whose undercurrent eddies beneath. The water trickles earnestly, intent to break free although it is repressed by shodden disbelief. Shorebirds and the tidal cycle sieve what foundry buds along the sediment planes…

It’s love. Call a spade a spade. — Pecan suds trickle down Eden’s shirt. Not that anyone sees or cares. Patrons stare through her. She glares at her pint, then the cigarette butts that litter an ashtray nearby. Ava and Mia insist she needs a night out. They swear her head is in the clouds. But her heart…

Eden knows anything goes because everything comes down to nothing at all. — Eden hates this class. Captive to the minutiae of cinema studies, she follows the methodic clicks of the lecture. Each slide comes thick and fast. Her heart is heavy. Her eyes are vacant. She is no stranger to this campus and the errands of tutelage. Undergrads colour the autumn grounds…