A bathroom break. A broken TiVo. Who would have thought that in the two minutes that it takes to pee he would have tore the TiVo from the wall and promptly thrown it out the window. On the other hand, there would be no need to rush the bathroom breaks anymore.
A long sigh escaped my mouth as I suddenly realized that she saved me. Saved me from the meaningless drone that is the TV. All those sitcoms, so little value. And yet, I hated her. Hated that I would no longer be able to waste hours watching re-runs of...
The daring were punished. Oh, how they were punished. For their transgression of assumption: public mockery. For their foolish hubris in believing that one could get away with such tom foolery: A dressing down by the town jokesman (and I use jokesman loosely as anyone in town would and will tell you that he was only installed as the town jokesman thanks to nepotism. After all, it's his father who is in charge of humor.
Yes they were a sight to see, the daring. The sad faces of such dissapointment as you would assume most of them saw some sort...
"Wine. Please." Mycroft replied, when I gestured to the still warm tea pot. I summoned Mrs. Hudson and passed on the request. She eyed Sherlock's intruder with continued suspicion, having clearly not banished the crazed Scottish farmer he'd just been representing.
As she left, my companion chuckled quietly, "'My croft.' A lovely pun, given you were attempting to represent a crofter… from the Islands off the west coast I believe…" His speculation clearly hit the target. "But why the obvious mistakes, dear brother? There is more to this than is straight forwardly apparent."
He'd gone again. Inside that wonderful mind...
Thoura just wanted to enjoy herself, that's all. Was that too much to ask, summer here and all. The green already starting to burn out of the grass and the leaves. Everything getting that white-out feel when the sun gets too bright.
And that's when they come. Tramping and shouting, splashing in the pond out back. Her pond. Her fish. She and the other little ones had to eat and the tourists scaring dinner away. Made it hard to find stuff to eat. Made the days arduous. That's what mom would have said. But Mom was gone. Long gone. Just...
She was the most delicate girl in town. But looks could be deceptive. Ruth knew he was somewhere in the house. Unfamiliar surroundings would make it difficult for easy location of prey, but that wouldn't delay the inevitable. She was as confident as she could be that no help would come. The old place was too isolated; one of its charms. Ironically, it was what had attracted her to the place. The appeal of sole occupation. Nothing to disturb her work.
Fortunately, she'd made it to the Kitchen and its drawers of sharp, clean, very clean knives. Ms. (note the...
she watched for him. the curtains engulfed her as she pressed her nose to the glass, eyes intent on the driveway. As his car pulled up, she smiled. before he could say anything, she plowed into him and smothered him with kisses. he laughed as she settled into the familiar position against his chest. she missed him too much to put into words. well, excluding the words "she watched for him."
The wires passed from hand to hand in the complex trading ritual. THe boy watched raptly, taking his training with the serious concentration of surgeons and chess-masters.
"You wrapped the wrong red and pulled the wrong green," he noted to his papa in mixed Spanish. The wires were then braided into his hair, the auburn hues mixing with the artificial Christmas tones.
"The day your hair grows out of these strands, you will have all there is to desire in this world. On that day, you may cut these colors and move on to the next."
The tea kettle screamed...
You get so used to one set of reality that you don't really consider that another one could exist.
Which is a very pretentious way of saying that feelings change without us even noticing it.
It's only when I'm reminded of the intensity of feeling that I notice that I am simply not feeling it anymore. What once felt like lifeline and lifeblood is now just a passing memory. A potentially entertaining thought process, but not worth obsessing over. Barely worth my time.
It's simultaneously comforting and distressing, to know that such intensity can be felt one moment but in...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
"I won! I won!" Curt's ears perked up and he looked over to see Miriam jumping up and down, holding a letter in her hand. He shrugged and went back to reading the daily news.
"Curt! Darling! Did you hear? I won!" Miriam continue to shout. Her wrinkled hands clutched the now crumbled letter. The perm her hairdresser had so fastidiously created fell slightly with each jump.
"I heard." Curt sighed. The Red Sox had lost last night and even though he had watched the entire game, he read through the article.
"Don't you...
Until now, she’d never thought of herself as pretty. She though of her body as a reclamation project. One of those trash dump sites that had filled up and had to be pounded down, covered over and made to look like something else. Something stable and pretty. Like a piece of ground someone would be willing to invest in - maybe build some houses on and raise kids without ever knowing what was underneath.
She couldn't fix everything, of course. Those scars...well, there just wasn't much she could do about them. Long sleeves, not tanning too much so they wouldn't...