The door rattles, gives a fraction of a fraction, and then slips back. He spits up a bit of laughter, kicks at the door, nearly misses. Quieting himself, he reaches in his pocket
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I don't know who you are -- I wound up here via degrees of LiveJournal -- but your writing here and elsewhere on this blog ranges from very good to wonderful. I hope it's something you pursue.
the only thing: 'his keys tumble over his hands; his hands somersaulting in the air.' i hate the use of the word 'hands' twice ... but i think that just might be some crazy pet peeve of mine.
i am going to lose it, today, pie. i wish you were here.
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the only thing: 'his keys tumble over his hands; his hands somersaulting in the air.' i hate the use of the word 'hands' twice ... but i think that just might be some crazy pet peeve of mine.
i am going to lose it, today, pie.
i wish you were here.
i don't know what to do.
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Will you finish my story for fiction?
It's due on Friday and I'm not quite half finished.
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