clinenk
the cat's whiskers matched his pyjamas. the little tiny stripes on his pj's mimicked the tiny whiskers jutting out from his furry cheeks. He looked so sweet. What a pity he was really an evil
table are for sitting at as you relate the troubles of your life to your best friend. the lovely thing is that person will listen to you as you dump all your garbage on their shoulders and
my sweater has shrunk in the wash. all those lovely fibres so taut and perfect are now ruined and beyond any hope of repair. i shall spend the next five minutes sobbing into my tea wondering about the beauty
the sunlight is yellow and dances through my window. it makes the room i'm in bearable. The smell is appalling and the nurse tells me my wounds are healing. I don't believ her. the damage