shinigami
"You've gotta say SOMETHING."
I blew out a sigh. "I know I have to say something. The problem is, what the hell do I say?"
Peter shrugged. "That's--"
"Not my problem," I finished. "Yeah, I know."
Another thing that drives me nuts is he's always so vague, so general. Yes, the sky is usually blue and can sometimes be black or pink or gray, but what color is it NOW? And I really don't care about the monarchical history of Denmark. I just want the friggin' current leader's name!
They say that you never know how strong you can be until being strong is your only option. People say that I'm strong, but I guess I don't see it. I simply don't have the luxury of falling apart, because I'm the caretaker.
I sat on the bench and tried not to focus on the fact that I was freezing my ass off. I tried to think about how the sunlight made the snow sparkle, and how quiet and peaceful it was. It was quiet and peaceful because the bastard was standing me up. I checked my watch, more to get myself more worked up than to see the time. Yep. He was late.
Mm mangos. They're, like, the ultimate tropical fruit. Seriously, you smell mango-scented anything, and you think tropics. You think warm beach with a hot native fanning you while you drink something mango-flavored and alcoholic.
They say that necessity is the mother of invention. If that's true, I've got a lot of potential as an inventor. Necessity isn't what I'm lacking. Know-how, creativity, materials... Those are more to the point. I lead a low-tech life, so sue me. I get the job done... eventually.
I looked down at the tangled mass of bright red yarn on my lap. I'd lost track of what I was doing, and something had gone horribly awry. I held the bunch up. Probably couldn't be salvaged.
writing since 2011 · 7 entries · 7 days shown up
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the words Emma reaches for
strongnecessitymangoquietpeacefulproblemtangledmassbrightredyarnlaplosttrackhorriblyawry