I feel the baby moving inside of me as I finish fucking Sarah.

The bed creaks one final time as I flop off.

“Can you get me the banana milk, babe." she says.

“This is the last one left. Lets go shopping later tonight.” I throw her the banana milk and take a piss.

O-Mart is open very late on weekends, which is great for people like Sarah and I. We love to go shopping late; the atmosphere is different. We quickly grab 3 boxes of banana milk and check out.

Each box contains 24 smaller boxes filled with the yellow stuff. This drink is absolutely necessary for both of us. This drink, and sex.

Sarah was lucky; the child grew in her stomach. She was having a normal human pregnancy, which was very rare. I had a fairly common conception in the adams apple. The child shouldn’t have a problem coming out healthy.

Everyday we stay home, fuck, drink banana milk, and rest our bodies until it is time to give birth.

Reading wasn't a pastime of mine when I first came across his works two years ago; now, I've read all of his books several times.

I heard about his unique way of telling stories, and a friend dropped a copy off, so I decided to read.

Having read all of his novels, I am now working my way through his short stories.

I didn't write much before reading his books, so I suppose my writing style has been influenced by him.

If you've never heard of this author, I recommend trying a novel.

Kafka on the Shore, Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and The Wind-Up bird Chronicle are all good books to start with.

Nat King Cole's Unforgettable, put Quill in a good mood. Eyes closed, he was sitting on a playground bench, the ear buds providing a nice, insulted quiet. He began falling into the earth, traveling weightlessly towards the center. King's voice stripped him of everything in this world. All disappeared as he fell quietly into a comfortable, dark place.

This happened often with Quill. There are certain songs that give him the sensation that he is being dropped. It’s not the genre that matters, nor the singer. He can’t point out what these songs have in common.

His stomach twists, and butterflies attack. His breathing deepens as he becomes aware. The air is crisp, the sun is warm, and he smiles. But, it’s short lived as it turns into a frown. The air was suddenly heavy, and he gets the sensation that something nearby is burning. He’s still falling, but grey clouds were starting to envelope him. The clouds came in waves, getting stronger with each push. Quill coughs, struggling to maintain his freefall. He opened his eyes.

The girl was crouching, arm on her knee. Her face was leaning in towards Quill. She inched closer and pulled the cigarette away from her red lips. She exhaled and tears formed in his eyes.

“What are you listening to? You look so peaceful.” She said, almost in a whisper. The white fluff intensified and the wind carried more depth. Some of the parents were staring at them.

“Unforgettable, by Nat King Cole. You know it?” She ignored the question, sat next to him, took one of his headphones and closed her eyes, listening quietly. It took one glance for him to know she was beautiful. Short black hair and a clean classic look: qualities Quill appreciated. But her abstract clothing and aggressive demeanor threw him off.

The song came to an end. She wrote on a piece of paper, handed it to him, and left the playground.

I love how much of a bitch you are right now.

Something you need to know immediately: you’re not special. Stop thinking you’re above everyone, you pretentious shit. Being different is great, but you’re trying too hard.

I know you like making life hard, and you say you enjoy stress, but those things come out of your mouth because you were spoon fed since birth. Wait a few more years, shits about to get real. You’ll be addicted to crying (the part where you quietly sniffle towards the end is your favorite), suicide becomes an option ( your 2nd attempt is the funniest), but when you come across the secret to living a decent life, you’ll be fine.

A few things:

Stop buying lottery tickets; you have a better chance of dying choking on your breakfast.

You’re in a relationship, right? She cheats on you, bud.

Stop being so nosy. Peoples lives are boring, just like yours.

Apologize for the shit you’ve done, even if you don’t want to. Stop your addictions now, even if you don’t think its possible. And tell your dad you love him before he’s gone, even if you don’t understand it.

Live longer than me, punk.

A chunky man yelled at the children through the megaphone. I stared for a while before I realized the dirty white van sold ice cream. A few pictures were ducked taped to the dark windows. Ice cream isn’t my favorite, but I had a craving that day, and the makeshift van was alluring. The truck had three options: orange sherbet, rocky road, and rainbow tree. The rainbow tree didn’t have a picture, only dull writing done with a sharpie.

“Can I get an orange sherbet?”

“Sorry buddy, we’re out. But we still got loads of rainbow tree!” he howled. I looked around to see if anyone had an ice cream that might look like a rainbow tree, but everyone seemed to be eating an orange sherbet or rocky road.

“What does it look like?” I asked.

“You see it, you buy it.” he said.

“What?” The chunky man kept grinning. I told him I’d buy it. He slipped to the back of the van and clunked around for a while before he returned. I paid him for the ice cream and sat on the park bench. The wrapper was completely white, except for the name written in black. I felt all focus shift to the rainbow tree I had in my hand.