Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Morning After

I thought she had touched the orange before smelling the roses. The words Wheaton College were written somewhere on her shirt. Sometimes before eating his dinner, crystal glasses and white flower petals appeared on her shoulders. Sometimes candles and their holders appeared too but soon she caught fire and then he would utter uncontrollably into his food. Soup usually, a red or orange broth was its base and when he didn't watch her he watched the residue, the grease, slide off the white plastic and back into his Styrofoam cup. He hated the dirt in his nails and around his fingers, the grime made him hate the way skin sounded against the cup. Styrofoam would be his motivation for killing the president of the United States or paying for another cup of soup.

Oh, and then there was this girl who would come into the supermarket and this guy who would buy a cup of soup and stare into it all the time. It would really piss me off, I would be like, What the fuck, dude? He really creeped me out. The girl had a nice ass but this dude and the other workers would always stare at her. Its like they were waiting for her everyday. They would all act like they were pretending to just eat their lunch and shit everyday in the same spot.


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