scnolan
She had that combination of beauty and intelligence that every guy of a certain type craves like a cigarette after dinner. Her blonde hair hung past her shoulder as she sat in the cafe, leaning over a small notebook, pen in hand, scrawling down every one of her (presumably) magnificent thoughts.
He'd never had the nerve to talk to her before, but today might be the day.
Distinguished is a funny word (which is a pretty easy way to start out a "OneWord," but let me explain. It's one of those words you can say that *sounds* positive, but doesn't really mean anything. A "distinguished" choice is not the same as an "honorable" or "exemplary" choice for a position of high responsibility.
I don't know, just something to think about.
By the time it was over, he wasn't able to tell whether to car had hit him or clipped his bike. Either way as he fell to the ground, tangled in the mess of the cheap aluminum frame, not built to stand up to the force of an oncoming vehicle, he was able to coherently think, "This is going to suck."
He was right.
Broken arm. Two sprained ankles. Bruised collar bone. And a fairly severe concussion.
The other day, my sister and I were at Bonton or Sears or one of those department stores that tries so hard to be "hipper" than they are, and we found this umbrella. It was marked at $2.99 but we bought it for $1.99 (I don't know how). The cool thing about it is that it's a full-sized umbrella with a hooked handle (Mary Poppins style), only it folds up into this collapsable plastic sheath. It's really quite something.
When I was a little kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my Mom's room, usually while she was getting ready for work. She'd be spraying perfume and putting on her pearl necklace, and I'd sit on her bed and talk to her. And while I sat, indian-style, on her bed, I would pick up her nightgown from the night before, and rub the silk between my fingers. I remember that so vividly. The feeling of silk sliding against silk on my skin. I couldn't get enough of it.
The sinking feeling in his gut was worsened when the man in the brown shirt revealed what was behind is back. Two-and-a-half feet long from tip to handle, the blade seemed to catch all of the light from the single, incandescent bulb. A machete was not generally used as a torture device. In most cases, you want to ensure precision. But this guy didn't look like much of a surgeon. He wouldn't care whether he chopped off a fingertip, or his victim's entire arm.
It wasn't the poison that killed him. Sure, that helped, but when your heart is broken by the woman you love, the woman you thought loved you just as strongly, no poison could ever be your demise.
Betrayal was the only word on his mind as he clutched his chest, struggling for the last few breaths of his life.
He knew now he'd been set up. He could see the plan clearly. Its setup, its execution, its endgame.
And he'd never be able to tell.
The transport hadn't arrived yet.
Carrying three tons of nuclear material toward the recently-renewed Yucca Mountain nuclear dump, it should have been at the checkpoint fifteen minutes ago.
What's worse, Martin couldn't establish radio contact with any of the drivers or crew members. He knew something was wrong.
Missed opportunities. That was the subject of tonight's Alcoholic's Anonymous meeting that I still, begrudgingly attended. At this point, I'm through with standing up and proclaiming, "My name is Silvester, and I'm an alcoholic," but convincing anyone else of its uselessness seems to be impossible. Especially the courts.
It's funny that "deer" is both a singular and plural noun. "Moose" is another one. You know what falls under that category that surprises me? Danish. Look it up. Danish (in reference to the pastry) is the plural of danish. I'm having trouble coming up with others, but I know there are many.
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