One thousand hits in twenty days. I never knew I had so many visits or so many friends dropping by. If I put up an entry what allowed anonymous posting with no IP logging, do you think I could perhaps have some people give me a hello?
She looked at him over the rims of her glasses and smiled. The rain began to fall, pattering like a sycophantic melody begging for umbrellas. Blood rushed from his head, “I’ll sell my soul.” She smiled, amused, “That’s not necessary. I’ll think of something far more precious.” She turned her gray eyes to the sky, “Isn’t the water glorious?” and took his arm, her enameled nails flashing in the streetlamp light. He thought of her hand on the leather of his coat and shivered. It was unexpected to stand here with her. When he considered meeting her, she was an amalgam ghost of his ex-girlfriends. He pictured someone else writing his letters, someone older, not this sleek woman. Instead she, with a wicked edge, was something like a dream. Her skirts flaring, scattering water, she talked quietly as they walked. “What you want to know”, she asked, “is it what you need to know?” He steered her past a puddle before answering, “I’m not sure. I want to know everything. How you got into the business, I guess.”
Today has been pleasantly social, though not particularly kind on my voice. Jenn called at four this morning, though my throat gave out after only twenty minutes, and Bliss visited in the afternoon with a friend. Sophie arrived next, followed by Robin. She left, leaving me with Robin. We have Monday’s out together. We’ve decided to go see House of the Flying Daggers up at the VanEast for 9:30. He’s promised he’ll get up tomorrow for school and it is the week of his seventeenth. He should be capable of such a thing by now, right? I have a nagging feeling somehow that I’ll run into someone at the Safeway afterward, in spite of how ridiculous such an urge tends to be. I’m currently blaming my mounting level of pseudo-guilt stemming from my continually putting off any grocery shopping.