Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Why Does Sore Throat Hurt Worst In Morning

Stereotypes Dangerous exploits

The men eat, sleep, smoke and say banalities yet destroyed.
Tx: Anton Chekhov
red light. Brake. A black car stopped beside me. I feel like I look, then turn my head to the left. Yes, I'd definitely watch. A pair of curious eyes behind the glass half down, I look attentive, outlined by a curl of no more than a year. A small little hand pressed against the glass leads me to keep my eyes in a naughty smile. I can not help it. I smile. Keep staring at me (and I him). Timidly raises his little hand on the edge of the glass. He settles on his knees, standing, and waving his little hand in greeting, while his smile deepens. Back to crouch behind the glass. Return the greeting with my hand, much larger and bony. Spy quickly, not wanting to lose eye contact, and the light remains red. Then come back to it. Keep smiling and completely ignores the existence or significance of the three colored lights. Back to straighten up, smile with narrowed eyes and say hello. Almost agonize so much tenderness. No longer shake his little hand, then at the same time, I shake mine. And I smile showing all my teeth. Laugh. I hear it. His little hand stops, he gets serious, wrinkle her lips and throws me a kiss, which came to hear noise. I notice the car ahead of me started. Then I return another kiss as I start to accelerate very slowly. I look forward to corroborate the traffic light is green that cars are already far ahead, I look askance, accelerated, advanced, back at him, and all the while their eyes are fixed on me. I smile when I seen your car doubles and I'm still right. Again I focus on my lane. But my lips still smiling.


Post a Comment