Oliver Miller

A man sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear.

“I miss Rushmore. I miss… the seasons.”

Stop asking the question. Within the question itself is contained the answer.

This is a story that I can tell, if I will, for I was there the entire time.

Is there a way out?

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art.

…All this dreaming. You dreaming of the being the girl next door as the guy next door dreams this and that. All these dreams crossing, their paths intersecting, crossing, but the dreams never being conscious.

I know my pick.