Dolores told her she needed to get out more, but every time Sandra set foot out of condo 16D, she found one more reason to invest in anything that offered "Free delivery".
Dumbstruck at the epitome of dumb dangling at the doorstep, Sandra ponders a time when wooing meant flowers, flowery prose at the front step, and flowery fragrances on Friday nights. It disheartened her that between the patent-pending Buddy Simmons, the Detroit exile Alan Jurgenson, and the insufferable Carl whatshisface, this was the most exciting week of her widowed life. And yet it was only Friday morning.
The complete idiot of a sweetheart Ryan Woodfield knew he faced a formidable line of suitors. Last night's binge with Essex60 filled him with liquid courage and renewed enthusiasm. However, unaccustomed to physical activity at 9:00am, his courage did nothing to improve his dexterity, much less his fool proof plans of sweeping Sandra off her feet... literally. As he swayed slowly in the brisk spring wind, trying to subtly subdue his struggles, Ryan spied Sandra shaking her head sadly.
He groaned inwardly, "Where was Lefty2 when you needed him?"
No comments:
Post a Comment