A civilization's infrastructure at my disposal for no particular purpose: I did not have the wheels the concrete was placed down for; I had no use for the buildings around me.
In homage to my link of the first In-N-Out in Dallas getting 12 comments where my post about Mark Twain's finally released autobiography got 1, I've decided to let you write about what you OBVIOUSLY want to talk about: Fast food. You loyalties, your disgusting stories, your thoughts. Write them in the comments below.
He’s been playing for an hour and a half now. Still hasn’t won. His wrists and hands are sore and his feet are falling asleep. He keeps playing. He doesn’t know what else to do.
“I need—” But do I really want to do this to her, to rely on Ashley when I don’t know how things are going to go with Sarah, when I can’t even pin down my feelings for a girl I just met at work, not to mention the girl I’ve loved for four years? Do I really want to be that asshole?