03-03-2018, 09:24 PM
Ema Matsuda had always loved industrial Truro with its narrow, nice nooks. It was a place where she felt happy.
She was a thoughtful, energetic, brandy drinker with greasy fingers and sloppy warts. Her friends saw her as a damaged, doubtful deity. Once, she had even helped a husky owl recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.
Ema walked over to the window and reflected on her backward surroundings. The snow flurried like sitting flamingos.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Brad Plumb. Brad was a patient carer with brown fingers and skinny warts.
Ema gulped. She was not prepared for Brad.
As Ema stepped outside and Brad came closer, she could see the silky smile on his face.
Brad gazed with the affection of 4638 smart horrible horses. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want equality."
Ema looked back, even more sad and still fingering the minuscule book. "Brad, I ate your puppy," she replied.
They looked at each other with sleepy feelings, like two grisly, grubby goldfish bouncing at a very spiteful wedding, which had classical music playing in the background and two kind uncles boating to the beat.
Ema studied Brad's brown fingers and skinny warts. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Ema in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Brad."
Brad looked angry, his emotions raw like a super, scandalous sandwich.
Ema could actually hear Brad's emotions shatter into 4021 pieces. Then the patient carer hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of brandy would calm Ema's nerves tonight..
She was a thoughtful, energetic, brandy drinker with greasy fingers and sloppy warts. Her friends saw her as a damaged, doubtful deity. Once, she had even helped a husky owl recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.
Ema walked over to the window and reflected on her backward surroundings. The snow flurried like sitting flamingos.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Brad Plumb. Brad was a patient carer with brown fingers and skinny warts.
Ema gulped. She was not prepared for Brad.
As Ema stepped outside and Brad came closer, she could see the silky smile on his face.
Brad gazed with the affection of 4638 smart horrible horses. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want equality."
Ema looked back, even more sad and still fingering the minuscule book. "Brad, I ate your puppy," she replied.
They looked at each other with sleepy feelings, like two grisly, grubby goldfish bouncing at a very spiteful wedding, which had classical music playing in the background and two kind uncles boating to the beat.
Ema studied Brad's brown fingers and skinny warts. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Ema in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Brad."
Brad looked angry, his emotions raw like a super, scandalous sandwich.
Ema could actually hear Brad's emotions shatter into 4021 pieces. Then the patient carer hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of brandy would calm Ema's nerves tonight..