bearskl
1-2-3. 1-2-3. 1-2-3. He danced around his partner, never venturing more than a few feet away from her. With a polite smile and a light blush dusting her pale cheeks, she swished the maroon fabric of her skirt. The candles lighting the ballroom shed light on the cloth, changing the hues ever so slightly with each flick of her wrist. A steady musical piece filled the air, a dinner consisting of lush greens and exotic meats sat warmly in their stomachs, and the wine was taking its infamous effect of those who consumed it.
The ice cream drooped over despite the girl's efforts to keep the spiral upright; hot rays of the summer sun just didn't allow it.
Carlos claims he is not a hero; instead, he's always saying he is a scientist.
Well, why can't he be both? Carlos - perfectly imperfect Carlos - is my hero.
The drum player looked up to face a crowd of flashing lights, hands in the air, and screams. The auditorium was filled with fans and with that thought he smiled.
"Hurry up!" The teen girl pounded on the bathroom door. "I gotta get in there and brush my teeth!"
The white-painted door creaked open and the head of a small boy popped out. A superhero toothbrush dangled from his mouth and toothpaste dripped down his chin. "Wait your turn," said the boy before slamming the door shut and locking it.
It is not just monetary value.
It is not just a representation of your social status.
It is not just a thing you can measure to rate your personal happiness.
Wealth.
Isn't it weird how you always sense that a person is bad news just by being near them? That somehow their "badness" has infected the air around them?