Kobanaa
I saw the timeline on my test. Damn it, was matches or the lighter invented? I don't know. I wrote matches, just as the time was running out. "Put your pens down," Miss Gradler said.
He was available for night he told over the phone. Five minutes later he looked in his diary and saw that that time slot was already taken. His fingers redialed the number again.
The broadcast finished airing. Mike rubbed the thin sheen of sweat on his head and sighed. He looked at Marianne, his co-host and heard her talk about something. However, he really was relieved that his first day, at this job had gone well.
I sat on the roof and watch the stars. Summer's crickets chirped and not a single cloud dusted the sky. In my pocket, my phone buzzed. I took it out and its small illuminated a new text message. I swore to myself.
Both of them wore the same dress. Lily, thought to herself 'What a bitch...', though really she knew there was a chance of it happening. Oh, it is one of the dilemmas fashionistas face.
The smell of my mother's cooking would drift around the house and make my mouth water: chicken curry, dahl, rice...mmmmm....
Sometimes, it made me wish I could cook.
He didn't know what he was doing, only that he enjoyed doing it.
He looked at himself at the mirror : navy tuxedo, a cream tie. He thought about her, in some long gown that would accentuate her features, her beauty. He thought, of how they will dancwunder the moonlight and talk about sweet nothings.
The sun rises in the western horizon as it always does. I watch it from the balcony and sip some warm coffee. My thoughts are not about what will happen tomorrow or today but only on the simple beauty sunrises possess. God, I do love sunrises.
The past is an intangible something I got sick of writing of, a long time ago.
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