kylegreen
The thought of her keeps repeating through my head. All day, no matter what I do, she is there. And it is a thought that I welcome with open arms and all the love in my heart, for it is like she is with me when she's not, sharing my experiences even when I tell her about them later.
The house was made of a solid red brick, the kind that looks like clay recently unearthed. Two chimneys ran up either side, like bookends to a mansion that seemed to expand forever to each side.
light bulb. flickers gently in the night illuminating the messy garage. wire hung loosely in the corner and a pile of old clothes strewn carelessly across the floor. a wardrobe from years past, out of taste and out of style.
Being a manager meant being in-charge. At least, that was what he was told. Mr. Peppercorn, as he was now called, instead of plain old Steve. The power he felt was immense, but all he did was move three small feet into a corner office, instead of the crammed cubicle in the center of the 'paper jungle.'
Rob sprinkled some pepper into the boiling water, watching it simmer and swirl in satisfaction. This was going to be his best spaghetti yet. Forget Ramen noodles and Cup O' Noodles, he was moving to the big time: full blown cook-it-yourself spaghetti. Now he was a real college student.