crunchberries
Claire got her ears pierced on a whim one afternoon. She'd been walking in the city and just so happened to pass a tattoo parlor that advertised all sorts of piercings. What seemed like a coincidence afterward felt more like a sign that she was meant to go inside the shop at the time.
Do you notice me? I wonder. You don't show it if you do. You just sit there at your desk, your head down as you work. If I glance over at the same time you look up, you always flinch and look away as our eyes meet. Do you hate me? I wonder that too.
A pencil, a pad of yellow legal paper, a box of paperclips, and a mug that says 'World's Greatest Dad' on it are the only things left on my former partner's desk. Soon they won't even be there; some well meaning janitor will come along, put everything in a box, and throw that box in the dumpster out back. Shame really, but we all face that possibility in this line of work.
I lost any optimism I had years ago. It's kind of hard to stay positive when there's no real proof that being so will change anything that happens in your miserable life. You can call me jaded or bitter, but that's my reality.
Ian stamps his feet and flails his little fists in the air, his face red and straining as he screams at his mother. "It's not fair," he wails. "It's not, not, not! I want to see Santa today! Not next week!"
"You're a bright kid, Lewis. You have the skills, the talent, and the ability to make any possibility you're given a reality. So why don't you? I don't get it."
Lewis shrugged. "Dunno," he replied as he fidgeted in his seat. "Why does this have to be such a big deal, anyway?"
A believer believes in something regardless of facts. A skeptic, however, questions everything they see. Who is right? Who is wrong? Who knows. It's all a matter of perspective.
I was amazed at the sheer audacity of the old woman who came up behind me. Not only did she physically climb over me to reach the bananas on either side of me, but she swore like a sailor while doing so. My ears stinging, I managed to fire off a glare at her general direction before I walked away, muttering to myself about how utterly inappropriate she was.
When I was a little kid, I used to pull branches off of my neighbor's willow tree. I wasn't trying to be cruel or anything; I just liked the feel of the little cotton ball shaped buds stroking against my skin as I ran them along the width of my palm.
Admit. What a loaded word. If you admit to a crime, you're automatically guilty. If you admit to a good deed, you're automatically given attention you might have never wanted.
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