lilaznpurplefreak
The letters on the digital screen glared at her through the darkness of her room. She stared at the her cell phone, wondering if that text she just received was from him. She couldn't bear to put herself through the misery of being with him again, and yet she still wished that he was the one to disturb her that night.
The containers containing the tiny white pills lined her medicine cabinet like soldiers waiting to be sent into battle. She took one look at her addiction - what had become of her life - sighed and reached for one of the containers.
The cannon sounded... Its boom reverberated in his chest. He looked up in fear, over the bayonets and the bodies of his comrades strewn across the battlefield. Why, he questioned, am I even here?
His hands danced across the typewriter. His book wasn't going to write itself. Although we live in the age of iPads and voice command, he would never buy a computer. His typewriter was the only way he could write. Joe, why are you so awesome?
The white sheets crinkled softly under her touch. She could smell the sea breeze that had softly ruffled them as they hung outside on the clothesline to dry. But there was another smell too. Those white sheets smelled like him.
I admit I'm a little paranoid. I admit I'm a neat freak. I admit your seeming inability to maintain good personal hygiene makes me not want to be your roommate. But I still admit that I'm glad we're friends.
Fluffy, soft, cute... They make me sneeze, my eyes get red and watery, and I get itchy. Too bad. I love bunnies, but apparently my body doesn't.