March 16, 2013
It was a new day with the smell of dusty linoleum, card tables and cold coffee. The sequestered innards of the store churned, broadcasting ideals through pamphlets and staples, DVDs, humble brown eyes. In return, we repetitively input our information with a firm grip on our pens and an acceptance. And I can't believe that description only used 50 words. I should wrap things up because it's late and I shouldn't be on the computer right now. The dishtowel besides me smells clean, laundry fresh. White with blue stripes. And tomorrow I'll be ready for another day, and more time.