“Just give me a minute, I don’t what I’m doing” , Karen said. Jack buttoned his left cuff and replied, “Well, hurry up, Sebastian’s parents are coming back.” Karen closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She knew tonight was going to be crazy, but she felt physically uneasy. The sensation reminded her of the old lady she saw at Hickoree’s yesterday. She raised her glass and took a sip. “Did you mix this?!”, Karen yelled. Jack gave her the same look when she picked her up in his car. “Bottom’s up. We’re going to Felix’s place tonight. It’s going to be fun. Hm—no—fun is not the right word. Ah, dramatic. Tonight’s going to be dramatic.” Karen rolled her eyes as she buttoned her shirt. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, ” I hate you”.
The girl smiled so wide that that her cheeks nudged her Persols. She slips her hand out of the sand and lazily points. Her friend, who was previously trying to correctly capture the beauty of an Italian beach, turns her camera. The group of men had already forgotten where they were walking from. It was at this time, before the shutter clicked, that their thoughts struck.
Sean: “I really hope this doesn’t revive seanhotchkisswalking.”
Gabe: “LEADER OF THE PACK. GET ON MY LEVEL.”
Noah: “I need to get back to cozy boi lyfe.”
Zeph: “Do I know those girls? Michael Bastian last year? Probably.”
Lawrence: “WHY AM I IN THE BACK. I SHOULD BE IN THE FRONT. PEOPLE CAN’T EVEN SEE MY TIE.”
The girl printed the photos and strung them on her wall. The candid picture rested within the sea of Italian beaches.
“I’m gonna get so faded this year” , Jeremy boasted to himself. “I’m gonna sit down, stand up, and then sit back down. Your Sammies got nothin’ on me.” He finished his thought and approached the podium.
Atari here atari there
Can’t even begin if you don’t wabisabi
Got the girls and the guys stare
Honeycombs on me
Don’t be bitter like this ain’t fair
I don’t wash these for six months
I’ma VISVIM you out
Poetry1A was confused, but Jeremy walked off with a smirk.
“No,this is not J.Crew!”, Amy shouted. She swiftly turned around and pointed across the room. “Hey, you with the sunglasses, I know you’re staring at my knees. STOP. STARING. AT. MY. KNEES. THE HEARTS ARE NOT FOR YOU. SCREW OFF.” Amy pulled the cardigan around her as she crossed her arms. The BAPE logo stretched and revealed a snippet of the plaid underneath. She furiously blew the tiny strand of hair out of her face. In one last fit, she pulled her hair back and created a pony-tail.
Amy finally say down. The man was definitely staring at her knees now. “We need this done by Christmas. You guys better pull it together or I’m express delivering all of you child pornography. Try explaining that one to your four-year-old niece.” Everyone scattered to their positions in fear. Amy turned and yelled, ” Hey, you with that sh*tty skinny tie, THIS ALMOND MILK TEA ISN’T GOING TO REFILL ITSELF!!!”
Emily watched as he walked away. She flipped the lapels. She wrapped her jacket so tight she nearly ripped the vents. But nothing could melt her uneasiness. “I did my hair today too,” Emily bitterly thought. She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t cry when her Samoyed died, so she definitely wasn’t going to cry now. That’s how Emily reasoned and that’s how it was going to be. She picked her foot up and turned away. One hand holding her hat, other tucked comfortably in her pocket, she started to walk back. “At least I have his jacket, “she said. She sighed and then chuckled.
Emily knew exactly how this love would end.
Every Sunday afternoon, Emily would contemplate wearing his jacket, but it would never leave the hanger. Years will go by and she’s moved to a new place. She donates the jacket, thinking some geeky menswear intern will believe he’s found a “gem”. But it’s not. It’s her gem.
Jaclyn put down the lemon meringue pie. She frantically grabbed a small towel and opened the oven.Empty. “I got it”, he said. “You almost burnt it, you know, and take off my shirt; my parents are coming soon”. Jaclyn waited for a response. She didn’t get one. So, she grinned and said, “This isn’t a shirt and it’s definitely not yours.” He stopped, squinted, and then glared. He still was puzzled. Hands tying her hair, mouth busy with a hairpin, she mumbled, “Yours doesn’t have pockets”.