Rick had stood stiffly, looking deep into the cool blue eyes that stared unblinkingly at him from the mirror. He breathed deeply, barely noticing as beads of sweat crawled slowly down his face as he leaned closer, his lips pressing into a thin line as he searched almost desperately for some sign of something.
I don’t know what it is with me and milkshakes, but I always seem to have a problem with them. I can now add McDonald’s to my list of places to never order a milkshake from.
Dave and Barry were sitting at the park bench. The cold Sunday afternoon brought them together at the south side, by the horse carriages.
“So,” Dave asked. “Rockies or Red Sox?”
Barry pondered his answer. “It would be interesting to see Colorado pick up and play, but I think the Red Sox can do it.”
