Paragraph on Sublime:

Waves of smoke crawled up the ceiling. Cold air whistled into the room through a small slice in the open window. He was sitting in a black leather office chair as the orange hued computer screen stared back. A document page was titled with the word: Stay. Beyond it was nothing else. He had already turned the hand rolled weed cigarette into ash and the smell kissed his hair. He sighed and looked at the door. A soft knock fell onto it, like he himself summoned someone's presence. A smile crept up into his right cheek. He opened the door and standing at his waist was a small boy. His smile flashed at the boy as the father knelt down and looked at him in his eyes. Dad are you done? The boy asked. 

Let’s call it that. What do you want to do? 

Game time? 

Game time. 

Come on, let’s hit the kitchen first. 

He lowered his voice to a whisper, do not tell mom about the sweets. They mirrored one another as they both brought a single finger up to their lips. The house glowed with vibrancy in the night as they made memories that would last for infinity. 

(Fritz Schwimbeck as always.)