"Is it me, or are getting text messages tinier and tinier?" Without her glasses, Jen was practically blind. She searched her purse, but they weren't there, when suddendly her phone rang. "Great. I can't even see who's calling me. Hello?!" The voice on the other line was distortet, heavily breathing, and uttered: "Looking for something?" "Who is this?" The voice let out a quite and diabolical laugh. "That is for you to find out. At the desk right across from your's sits Jim. He knows everything. If you ask him, you will never see again... Because I will break you're...

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"Skipper! Where are you, dammit?"

Op.8. Op.8.

"Wretched dog! You've only got so much time!"

Locate Rory. Locate. Locating. Locating.

"Where are you?" Another voice chimes in. "I want my paper. It's early in the morning. They told us you were an obedient creature."

Rory found, chasing butterflies on the south lawn. Come closer. Closer.

The little girl shouts, "Skipp-er! Skipp-er!"

Skipper barks, and Rory calls back. Safety is across the bridge, across the broken-windowed fairy house and shattered pond, but the voices are coming and Skipper has no idea how to stop them.

"I want my newspaper! Come over...

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"You know," Clark said, in-between rising above the water to take breaths as he swam. "I really hate you."

John shrugged; or, at least, performed as much as a shrug as you can while swimming. "I don't see why."

"What do you mean, you don't see why?"

"We're doing what I said we'd do, right? Go for a swim together. You were all uppity about the whole thing, so I challenged you to do one length of the pool with me. Well, here we are, doing one length."

"Yes, but you didn't tell me that we were going to be...

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He had been happier when he was unhappy.

It was difficult to fully explain; his days of being an asocial shut-in were, upon reflection, paradoxically better than his life now. The words had flowed then, from his mind to his keyboard to the story, he could see and imagine vividly what he did not have.

Now, with a college degree, a good job, a new car, a girlfriend and a house in the hills, he was a markedly happier, and thus unhappier, man. He couldn't finish anything he set his mind to. His efforts were as half a page of...

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It was weird, the way the rest of the world could see something that you yourself couldn't.

Like, I look in the mirror and there's - yeah, there's a girl there. And...yes, those eyes are dark, and that hair is...kinda curly, if it's behaving, and that skin is pale, freckled -

And I'm seeing the things I need to do to get to beautiful. Pluck that, moisturise that, define that, conceal that (some mornings, conceal all of it, please)

The amount of times I look at myself and I think that I need to be fixed. That I need to...

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In a moment of clarity and inspiration, the second archivist suggested the following plan: track the social trends in our city; map them, finding the inevitable patterns; figure out the dependent and independent variables; create a mapping; and finally, inconspicuously, design public policy to tap into exactly those inputs, in just the right amounts. Prod the organism. Domesticate the animal. Soon, the stochastic trends would form into strands, then chains of strands, then threads. With time, the sum total of human knowledge be kept in the predictable social patterns of our race.

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Wine, you are wonderful. I won't shout it, I won't be heard about above the din. Nightlife never appealed to me beyond the very notion of it. I appreciate gatherings, but rarely the gathered. And so, wonderful thou art, wine.

I got tanked on pinot gris and focused on her adoringly. She had better legs than this too expensive wine I ordered with careless enthusiasm. Yeah, she was a showgirl. It's as obvious as the hangover I'd nurse in the morning.

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She didn't look at him. She felt her cheeks burning but refused to look up, even when Jenny nudged her side. She felt his eyes boring on her.
"Excuse me, what would you like to order?" He repeated. She dared to look up but still avoided eye contact. Instead, she looked at his lips. His perfect lips.
"Small Coke and fries." She practically whispered. Jenny repeated the order, louder.
"Alright, Small fries and a Coke. And for you?" He was gazing at Jenny, not that she would have noticed. She had become mesmorised by his lips. The way his deep...

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I just stepped off the train, and the heat is unbearable. Before I left my apartment, it was already at 90. That was at 5:45 this morning.

Now, it is the end of the day, and I am stopping to grab a drink with a friend. They are visiting the city, so I have meet them up in a place I normally don't go to. Well, except for work.

The heat is so intense, taking the train was easier than walking. I would normally walk but this would have been too much of an exercise.

Michael Phelps would have been...

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"Wait, so he hit you?" "Yes, he did! I couldn't believe it! I was just waiting in line for a pink slime burger and then..bam!" Lucky for me, it bouinced off my ripplig shoulder museles and I felt nothing. But still, I mean, he hit me! First off, I ddn;t even know this guy. I think it all started when I walked into the restauraut. I walked past his table and I heard him say, "Yeah, you're right. Justin Beiber is HORRIBLE!" I stopepd in my tracks. I pulled up a chair and sat right next to this monster. I...

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