(no subject)
Rose wanders slowly through the nexus, staring sullenly at some chips. They aren't good chips, though they might have been at one time (that time being about an hour and a half ago when she bought them). They're cold, soggy, limp chips that she eventually tosses in a rubbish bin with a sniff of disgust.
With a sigh she flops down on a couch, her head lolling on its arm for a moment before she pushes herself up to a more proper position.
"How many times can a person start over in life? And anyone have suggestions for doing that?
"And on a completely different topic, why can't Americans seem make proper chips?"
With a sigh she flops down on a couch, her head lolling on its arm for a moment before she pushes herself up to a more proper position.
"How many times can a person start over in life? And anyone have suggestions for doing that?
"And on a completely different topic, why can't Americans seem make proper chips?"