Poema De La Distancia Novels & Stories

“I already knew as soon as I laid eyes on that guy, honestly? If you didn't take it, I would; I want all the details when I get back, I love you and Ther, don't be late! was the last thing she said before blowing air kisses and walking out the door. Pedro was on another planet that day, I haven't seen him like this for a long time, honestly? I don't think I've ever seen him like this before; I always saw him suffer a lot in this area, mainly because of all the prejudice around him; he was a very handsome young man, he had porcelain white skin, sometimes it looked like he had never had a pimple in his life, ebony black hairs that contrasted but curiously matched perfectly with his tone; tall,

"If you want me to forgive you, then wait three years." He lit up, then faltered. "Why three years?" "I'm going overseas to study. It might take longer. If you don't want to wait—" "I'll wait," he cut in, almost tripping over the words. "If it means you'll forgive me, I'll wait for as long as it takes..." He kept talking, piling promise after promise. However, I didn't listen to any of them. All I heard was him saying, again and again, that he would wait.

The Distance Between Worlds is a free bonus novella and prequel to The Moon’s Choice. Alice believes she understands her life. Work, familiar streets, ordinary routines — everything has its place. Until reality begins to slip. Her reflection moves when she does not. A silver line opens onto a landscape she has never seen. And one night, Alice finds herself beside an impossible lake beneath unfamiliar stars. There, she sees a dragon. And a man who looks at her as though he already knows exactly who she is. Alice does not know his name. She does not know why silver magic responds to her touch, why the boundary between worlds seems to recognize her, or why this stranger speaks to her with

And for a moment, for the specific suspended moment of two people who have seen each other across a distance and are both deciding what to do with the seeing, the paddock continued around them and the personnel continued their business and the circuit did its after-race thing and none of it reached either of them because they were in the specific pocket of stillness that the space between them had become. She looked at him and felt the thing that passed between them and tried to name it and found that the naming required categories she didn't currently have access to, that what was moving across the forty feet of paddock between them was older than any of the categories their recent interact

She thought about proximity as a form of love, which was a thing she had not fully understood before this year, the way that the physical closeness of people you loved generated a kind of warmth that distance, however well managed, could not replicate, not because the love was greater when people were near but because the love had more surfaces to express itself through, more ordinary moments to occupy, more of the daily texture of life to be present in. She thought about Felix standing at the window of the park house on the day they first visited, saying: I can see the park gate from here. She thought about what that had meant to him, that the gate was visible, that the distance between his

Peter approached him who was fixated on staring away to a point. “The house at the end of the street was the Marina's residence. Whether it's the house or the shop I can just keep my distance. This distance has not changed at all in the last 6 years. The same thing that my mother could just stare in the past though, watching from a distance.”

separated her from the lover. "I have another one titled How do I love thee. Elizabeth Barret Browning. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

Oracular was I to echo your bone to your bones: Xanadu. In the context of changing the landscape of dreams, of regarding happenstance as the escaping of poetic lines from the fugitive shunning of wood and verse, this distance, we sleep fine sleep.

That night, Amara cried not out of pain, but exhaustion. She’d seen him. He’d come. And yet, even in proximity, they were still miles apart. She wrote in her journal before bed: “We are proof that sometimes love doesn’t die it just gets lost in translation.” Miles away, Liam sat in silence, holding her exhibition brochure. On the back, her signature ‘Amara Esi’ curved like a heartbeat. He smiled, just a little. Then whispered into the night, “You were always worth the distance.” And though neither of them knew it, the storm that had circled them for years was beginning to break quietly, dangerously, beautifully

Nothing had shifted in a way anyone else would notice. And yet— The connection was gone. Not weakened. Not distant. Gone. Selara took a step back. It returned. Faint. Precise. Exactly where it had been before. She stilled. “That’s not distance,” she said quietly. Because distance did not behave like that. It did not disappear and return within the span of a single step. It stretched, it faded, it distorted—but it did not cut cleanly and reappear without transition. Selara moved forward again.