BrittkneeTheGreat
My favourite word. For now, anyways, untill I change My mind. Which might be in a few minutes. I've always been lured to the word, as if It were some genetic connection, as if it were an old, slightly forgotten friend. It's a Latin word, originally, or is it Greek? No, no, I'm quite sure it's Latin, fairly sure. Lunacy literally means a form of madness induced by the moon. I do love the moon. It's so luminous and lovely and cheese. No, moon is my favourite word. Moon or applesauce.
My heart. And my bike. The thin devil with smiling eyes picked the simple lock only slightly faster than I could. I hadn't shouted, like how most people would do; I just watched him nonchalantly slide onto my bicycle. He had known I was watching him, too. The bastard was showing off. He winked and shot a charmed grin at me as he casually rode away, knowing that I had allowed him to take it. The bike, that is.
Biting my lip. Jaw tightened. Clamped shut. My words will only be twisted and baked by their minds, into some horrible unintended creation. I save my words for ones who will understand. Not these fools.