I HAD FORGOTTEN. CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.
when she went to work, when her feet took her there, it was all autopilot, she didn't need to think. the dangerous stretch of sidewalk that butted up against the raging traffic full of people raging about their lives inside their cars before the beach walkway was part of this trance. despite the fact that the hat completely covered her face, she went along, she ambled, she somehow negotiated the dangerous track each time without incident. there was no time for incidents, injury was certain, she was late and would have to explain herself to Abdiel. she hated unnecessary talking.
it's hottest when it's interspecies.
she lived on that patch of isle far enough removed from the annoying filled streets but close enough to be able to walk the unspoiled part of the beach to the brick library. her house was always complimented upon by the tourists but especially by the locals during the summer when the red poppies would bloom in the patch of land between her rusty car and the cobblestone driveway. oh how they marveled at the rich, sobering beauty of those poppies, the red which spoke of past trials, their fingers shook as they tried to capture the perfect angle with their clumsy ipad minis. blue forget-me-nots spoke of blue times during the winter. the gardeners did all the work, not her, she never talked to the gardeners when they did their secret work, she was always asleep. she never talked to her neighbors or to anyone in the community unless it was an absolute necessity to continue moving, that was why she was so liked in the community. part of it was curiosity as to her thoughts and stances on things, the other half appreciated the quiet in a world of everlasting noise. the locals named her house Still Waters, for they were sure still waters ran deep in her case. she didn't give her house a name, it wasn't home to her.
"you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug..."---Trent Reznor in "The Perfect Drug" and when he's at the drug store.
the nails started to throb again, the fingers hurt, Maghie knew this was pain that just wouldn't go away, at least not soon. the bus landed on the spot, the mysterious place, the city, her new home, new hometown, she was a stranger in a strange land, knew no one, especially her daughter. actually, she knew of this place, but she always drove by it, like the monastery. she was in it now, down in it.
i don't drink, but i'm still at the TMIT Bar ready for some cheesy pick-up lines. this is so exciting! i've never been picked up before, which is strange given i'm so skinny. this is how i would respond to the following lines thrown at me: