One-Sentence Stories

When sharing music becomes foreplay, you know you have something beautiful.

He knows to keep an eye on my hands, as the length of my finger nails is in direct proportion to how content I am with my life.

You never wrote back, and today I stopped expecting you to.

Night after night I stare at my phone in anticipation until I realize you’re too busy doing blow in strange people’s houses to bother with me.

More here.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 29th, 2007 at 8:29 pm and is filed under words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.