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She signed the slip, then looked up at me. “You’re in!” I jumped up from my chair excitedly. I would have a solo. I hugged her tight before grabbing the sheet and running outside into the fresh, sunny air. i skipped down the block and didn’t stop until I got home.

The airstream touched my fingertips, and I slowly put my face near the opening, enjoying every moment of the cool, fresh air. I smiled and ran my hands along the side of the wall. This place was charming.

The taboo said she shouldn’t be here, but she was. And with that, she hopped over the fence and pulled up her shorts, fell into the grass and was soon fast asleep, with her notebook-and a smile on her face.

She had hair a shade of auburn, it was almost a light brown. It was beautiful. Her eyes were deep and dark, and full of interest.. The type of eyes that had depth. The type of eyes that had so many layers of secrets in them, it took years to uncover all of them. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, and her eyes sparkled.

He sat at the loom, staring out into the distance. He’d run the thread through many times, but this time – it sparkled. The destiny this thread foretold was brilliant – and it didn’t end.

The soap slipped my grasp, and made a loud crash in the tub. My face turned red, and I heard a muffled laugh from downstairs. “Dropped the soap huh?” I heard him call out. I smiled as I picked it up and it slipped out from my hands again. This was going to be a long night!

He watched in awe as the golden liquid flowed from the tap. Suddenly his twenty-first birthday became important as he chugged down the drink in all it’s glory. A few drinks later and he was a slobbering mess like the rest of them – a few months later and he was drinking like his dad.

She told me stories, and I’d quietly listen as her fingers typed and the breeze chilled my skin. I would curl up with a book, and then find that she had messaged me or wanted to talk to me. Her stories were amazing. They made me feel as if I was in an entire different universe, and they took me away to another place. She told me stories, but they weren’t just stories. They were life lessons.

But she did have the credibility that I knew she had. And just because she spoke about me sometimes did not make it exempt from the fact that she is trustworthy. And it doesn’t change anything, because she is my best friend. And that satisfaction kept me sane.

I can see Jones over there screaming at the printer, hoping for his anger to have some magical effect on the toner levels. Poor Jones, doesn’t know today is rating day. The new ones never know, though. Once a month the clipboards are drawn out and the supervisors begin their painstaking reviews.