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The Intelligent Are So SadA cascade of words parade around,
with thoughts of atoms and connotation.
She is brilliant, they say,
but she knows she is lost.
Numbers are her companion,
she understands their mean, average.
Words can twist her brain,
she loves the wonder they bring.
She is intelligent, they say,
she doesn't feel clever enough.
Sometimes she feels clever too much.
Excusez-moi, in perfect French,
but nothing is gained by perfect word tense.
She is clever, they say.
But she is not clever the way they know.
She sees things as they are,
and she prefers her thoughts to the world.
She knows she loves them more than they in return,
and her friends will be there until they wont.
Friends reassure her, you'll be okay,
she puts a smile on her face.
She loves them as much as any,
even though there aren't many.
They bring out the best in her,
the happy girl,
not swamped by words.
The one who isn't drowning in formula.
Test scores and numbers don't mark you smart,
she knows this now,
engraved in her
Karasu - Part 7
Like all monks, the tengu of the mountain temple valued cleanliness. The grounds had been equipped with a communal bath, its walls and floors lined with pale cedar planks. Because the mountain lacked a natural hot spring, a fair amount of firewood was required to keep up with their bathing habits. Steam filled the warm room, contrasting the frozen, moonlit landscape surrounding the building. Filling a shallow bucket, Shichi poured the water over his head, letting it rinse away all evidence of his day’s labors. Shusei was already submerged up to his throat, resting his head back on the edge of the large tub.
“It’s too bad the village doesn’t have a bath,” Shusei said, his voice lazy with the heat of the room. “Maybe they enjoy being filthy.”
“They’re not filthy,” Shichi said, filling the bucket once more. “Only larger towns have public baths.”
“Why are you always defending humans?” Shusei scoffed, turnin
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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