Thursday, 29 July 2010

love is spent.

The sky screamed foreboding. The weather girl told otherwise, uncomfortably holding this vacuous grin. It comes from trying to pass off information you received only a split-second ago as expertise. I can't believe you actually liked it, I mean anybody can wave their hands around and read autocue.

Sudden thunderstorms were never your thing though. You preferred to run like clockwork. I thought I'd surprise you for lunch that day, only to surprise myself recognizing that same grin plastered clumsily all over the face of your colleague. You fucking bastard.

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