martin
Was he fully grown yet? It was a hard question to answer. Physically, yes, he'd have to say he was. But the rest? Depended on who you asked.
He pulled the sheets tight around his body and settled into bed.
"I'm wating!" he called out.
Finally, in walked his father, tie slightly undone, a few books in his hands. Which one would he hear tonight on his way to his dreams?
I never liked used things. Maybe it's because I grew up in a refugee household, where almost everything we owned was from Goodwill. Or maybe it's because I had so many brothers, so everything I had was a hand me down. I like things, shiny and new.
She literally hugged trees. The bugs and bark and sap did nothing to stop her. She had taken something once at a party, loved it, continued to take it, and now...and now she hugged trees and her eyes looked ever surprised.
He always wanted to live in a loft. Made him feel real New Yorky.
"Come up to my loft," he used to practice saying when still a poor, doritos and rice eating college student.
They said it was forever. A simple ability to read graphs told him it might not be. They pretty much had a 50/50 chance as far as he could tell. But it was worth trying. More than worth it.
He had mere seconds to think of something to write. And the only damn thing he could think of was to write about the fact he couldn't think of anything at all. The bar continued to move across the bottom of the screen. Times up.
There are certain words that you rarely see by themselves, you always associate with other words. Probable...cause. And of course, now I'm blanking on all the rest....
He couldn't use it. Why didn't people rinse it out better? The tupperware he brought to work smelled better after sitting at his cube unwashed for 3 hours than it did after he washed it in the break room.
Before there was the earth or the moon or the stars, there was only one. And that one, no matter what we may call it today, split into a million billion trillion little pieces.
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