The old man sat down and began sliding his long fingers through the hair. multi-hued vehicles loitering and generally individuals all seemingly hair short and legs long.
After reading the story, took two days off that day, though he had just come on shift.
O comb the dog’s fur out once I got home and destroyed the submission before it could blue jeans with ink-pens and markers alike, no heir hands off the whole ordeal and destroying grey, though just twenty minutes before I’d of fell in love.
When we were in elementary school, I thought, merely twenty seconds after declining the silver hand-rail, the smooth. ‘No no no, it, the itching gums.’ having off the offer, his flabby arms flapping.
Disdain the women of this neighborhood oh the hen she was fifteen. I thought of me, and imagine drinking water from the story was given did not read it.
The sugar-red of mediocre cranberry juice, the typeset. The other didn’t open the sweet, stick-to-your-stomach flavor of diner paper in his trash-bin. He did not expect anything.
She was smoking to be finished, for her cigarette to be finished.
And then go dancing.
Bring that out on the street and make me see the last time she goes dancing.
Her name.
Months ago. I. and drinking while dancing. She wrote her to me. I noticed earlier in the day that of all her names I don’t call her only one remained.
(this was done using jlc's original short story, Sophia Sara Bednarczyk.)
|
