jarednieder
Tough bristles used to catch dirt, dust, and debris. Long handle to shoo away pests, pets, and proselytizers. Sturdy construction to suffer repeat bangs, booms, and bashings. Brooms: a modern engineering marvel.
They were shooting spitballs at the teacher again - juvenile as ever - yet when she turned to accost them this time, they reflected on something new in her eyes. She was weary. Weary of them. Weary of the weight of adolescence which she had been enduring for decades, the kind of deep-seeded weariness which develops over years of chronic, fatiguing persistence.
There is a tree right out back. The tall one with the broad leaves. You may have noticed the plump fruit hanging in the branches. In the morning, when the dew is thickest, it glistens and beckons passerby.
I'm having a barbecue. It's going to be your typical fair: friends, food, drinks, laughter, women, severed limbs... You know. Just the usual things. Be sure to invite your friends.
From a haze he stumbled. Not intoxicated just overwhelmed. What he had seen... what he had heard. He was left reeling and seeking solid ground not only for his feet but also for the remains of his shattered life.