This is a writing exercise. It is 100 words exactly:
She tried not to say "I miss you." His t-shirt smelled like a meadow, she remembered that. His sideways smile, his mouth a perfect triangle to the right, she remembered that. The way he looked above her, she remembered that.
When he ran to the corner store as the guy was pulling the grate down over the doorway and shimmied underneath and found the Lemonheads in ten seconds flat and bought two boxes because she said they gave her superpowers she knew.
His crooked smile filled the video chat box in her monitor. She rolled a candy on her tongue.
I like it, you naughty girl, you.
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Posted by: Jprestonian | April 12, 2012 at 11:02 PM
Oh! Also... the creator of Lemonheads recently passed. I know this because Genuine Scooter Co., Chicago, and their sister company, Scooterworks packs the guy's candies (including Lemonheads) into EVERY order placed. Guy was a Chicago icon, apparently.
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Posted by: Jprestonian | April 12, 2012 at 11:34 PM
Sweet, Brittney! For the record, my T-shirt smells like >sniff< a fir forest after a big rain.
Posted by: winehiker | April 13, 2012 at 11:22 AM