It's the little things that kill.

little things that kill:
the mosquito as you walk across a slightly slick log bridge,
the missed turn into the Hilton that sends you onto a rainy freeway,
the torn grocery bag that contains both your weekly bread and Torani irish cream syrup,
the instinctual but definitely not intended smile,
the tiny doubt in a time of ecstacy,
the almost dropped bong,
the lost flashlight during the dark winter months,
slightly frost-bit fingers,
the burnt latte,
the running toilet.
The future of the world hangs on a hangnail.
little things that please:
when Modest Mouse's "Float On" comes on at the beginning of a road trip, the perfectly chosen new couches in the library, a subtle forest green with red, orange and purple leaves, Mom's gift of a simple black phone covered with heart stickers. The world turns on the point of a good ball-point pen.