2007
11.09

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked her as she put her clothes back on and pulled her hair in a ponytail.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s just a few blocks.” It was actually more than a few, fifteen to be exact. But the last two hours were a blur in her mind, and she needed the fresh air to think. Besides, Doug was in no condition to drive – he wasn’t drunk, but he was on an expressway there.

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2007
11.02

Anticipation

She stands at the kitchen sink, her hands playing aimlessly with the leftover bubbles. As her left hand caresses each bubble tenderly, she reaches with her right to turn the faucet on. The bubbles are whisked away by the cool water.

She sighs as she peers out the window above the sink. “He should be here by now,” she says aloud, “he knows I hate waiting.” She brushes the leftover crumbs of her cookie off of the counter. The morsels land near an ant patrolling the ground on his search for food, and he eagerly seizes them. “Take my crumbs will you?” she remarks as her heel crunches the ant with the crumbs.

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2007
10.30

Milkshake

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.

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