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
Recent entries:
They Were All My Friends And They Died - Friday the 14th
%%older_entries%%They both went down to Berlin, joined the Ice Capades - Thursday
%%older_entries%%And I wish you'd stop whispering. Don't flatter yourself, nobody's listening. - Wednesday
%%older_entries%%You Don't Need Much Money To Ride The Hudson Line - Wednesday
%%older_entries%%Playing KISS Covers Beautiful And Stoned - Tuesday
%%older_entries%%
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