Women ride past me in their Prada heels with their matching sunglasses, might as well have a toy poodle in the front basket of that bike. I am the one getting stared at for jogging. I pass a man in a white Ralph Lauren polo with the cutest of green sweater vest over it. He is also getting in his evening workout. Yet, I get called at because I have blonde hair.
Trying to piece together how I could have possibly left my iPhone in the backseat of the taxi I stepped out of right in front of the iron gate to my Spanish home.
Smooth slopes for the most part. Very private and secluded. The music was rich enough to burst through the thin red walls in a moments’ time. Into a golden sanctuary, where riches of only the necessities of life resided, up on your shoulders.
A New Year.
The Show Me State
There is not seeing your parents for nine months and then there is living with your parents for nine days. I would take the not seeing my parents for nine months over staying with them another nine nights. Any day.
Love you Mom and Dad.
Read directions. Of scratch off tickets and of the chalkboard displaying happy hour hours. Read in general. The book about a psycho genius you just received from your friend over your first cup of coffee together.
A second cup?
Not the lines your professor is writing on the board at 7:30 AM, but between them.
A glass of ill red?