Lunch.
Piles of veg.
Turkish Delight for miles.
Life changing latte.
Two Saturdays past. South of the Thames.
Saturday Morning Thoughts...
- Me: I want Steve McManaman to read me books as I drift off to sleep every night.
- Cait: That's not what you want, you sick bastard.
- Me: Okay, so it's not the ONLY thing I want. But I do want him to read to me!
Diner brunch. So many cups.
Mega Ritas to start a Saturday night. 56 ounces of frozen delicious booze.
Antipasta and Primitivo for dinner = Friday night perfection
Untitled, September 30th, 2011
She took a deep breath. The air was lighter now that it was finally raining.
Another deep breath before she pressed the cigarette between her lips. The pack had been nearly forgotten, hidden at the bottom of her purse. She’d purchased them the night the boy hadn’t kissed her.
Tonight she needed one. Just one. The kick of nicotine would be enough to straighten her spine. To surge through her veins with the alcohol and help her forget the nerves.
That other boy, he might have slipped away, but this one, she wouldn’t let him.
