December 9, 2010
Sitting in a room made up of big white walls, cards strewn across the table as we read the messages. Some are truly heartfelt and strike a chord even with those they're not meant for. Others, selfish twits, don't care one shot. They just did it for the neon treasure. They get put in a seperate pile. Precarious stacks grow by the minute. And then the last one is sorted. Dud cards: bin. The rest are collected and tied as if a gift, which they will be soon. Everything else is put in the bags and the door swings shut.