all the world is waiting

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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All siblings shared that common strain, that indistinct yet overwhelming sense of who they were in regards to one another. Perhaps the night that horrible thing had happened to her he had tossed in his slept and had nightmares. Perhaps she had once dreamed of the things he had been doing (though these were not half so horrible). Ezekiel was not quite the same as the rest of his family; though he hated, and he hated with enough fury that on some nights he sat awake and could do nothing.      A crooked grin and a wink, a-typical of his stance, responded to her words first. He moved, came to her side, and settled. The dreadlocks, long and hanging low, obscured his face for only a moment before they were shoved aside. “Play me something,” he requested, boyish smile and boyish eyes focused on her and her alone.

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