A spider has begun to spin a huge web in the corner of my bedroom. If she starts to write messages to me, I’ll have to call her Charlotte.

I went to the store earlier, and I think the girl who works the checkout line at the supermarket likes me. She had dark red hair and a great smile, the kind of smile that puts a lump in your throat. Her name badge said, Eleanor.

She smelled like a meadow on a warm summer day.

She did seem a little put off by my purchases and gave me an odd look as she rang them through; twelve rolls of paper towels, a newspaper, and some lighter fluid.

4:35 p.m. - Tuesday