read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

March 3, 2008
Back home, I ran the shower hot and turned the heat up to eighty degrees. I went to bed cold, waking up the next morning with the covers on the floor and sweating. It was Saturday. I didnít feel like playing with the metaphorical brain. Maybe I was a lazy. I let it go Sunday too. It wasnít until Wednesday afternoon that I returned. The weather was nicer, but as I approached the field, I saw other cars parked along side the road. People were walking in the road. Something was wrong. I began to fear for my metaphorical brain.