To market...to market...
Pondering the nuances of trying to treat an obviously unhinged and unwilling sociopath is SO much easier to think about than trying to figure out what I’m going to say the next time I see Sanosuke.
Stop! No more thinking about Sanosuke. Period. End of discussion.
My internal battle to stop dwelling upon certain sexy rooster heads is made all the easier by the sudden, and heart stopping sound of someone screaming.
“Oh, help! Please!” An old woman, her face grey and eyes wide with horror stumbles out of a rice shop, the front of her kimono and the palms of her hands red with what appears to be blood. “Please, please! Someone…please help my husband!” She stumbles to her knees, and with an anguished wail, covers her face with her hands and begins to rock back and forth, weeping hysterically.
Suddenly thinking takes a back seat to moving and I rush forward, hoping that I can help, praying it's not too late!
Stop! No more thinking about Sanosuke. Period. End of discussion.
My internal battle to stop dwelling upon certain sexy rooster heads is made all the easier by the sudden, and heart stopping sound of someone screaming.
“Oh, help! Please!” An old woman, her face grey and eyes wide with horror stumbles out of a rice shop, the front of her kimono and the palms of her hands red with what appears to be blood. “Please, please! Someone…please help my husband!” She stumbles to her knees, and with an anguished wail, covers her face with her hands and begins to rock back and forth, weeping hysterically.
Suddenly thinking takes a back seat to moving and I rush forward, hoping that I can help, praying it's not too late!