so what if absence makes the heart grow fonder?

what good does it do to grow fonder over something or someone who can't be there? the feelings that result from that are usually not the...happiest...in the world.

kinda a dick move on the part of absence, in my opinion.


writer's block.

"I know this is probably a stupid statement considering where we are at the moment, but holy sh*t, you look miserable."

"My eyes are itchy and I can't stop sneezing. I think I'm allergic to something back there."

"Allergic? Nah, it's probably just your body rejecting Shaw's."

She laughed.

"I'm serious," he said. "Would not surprise me at all. This place sucks."

There were three carts behind the counter, one filled with brownie cookies and the other filled with ring cakes, all for a table to be set up in the front of the store.

"So wait--you're closing tonight and opening tomorrow? That's f*ckin awful."

"I'm not opening tomorrow. Susan is in at 5 to bake, and I'm in at 7."

"Close enough. Honestly, if I was you, I'd be like f*ck this place. I'm not coming in tomorrow. I'm done. Go ahead, say it: F*ck Shaw's!"

She laughs and says it quietly, almost loud enough to be a whisper.

"Are you kidding me? That was weak. You gotta say it like you MEAN it!"

This place drives me crazy sometimes, no doubt about it, she thinks to herself, but most of the time I enjoy it. I work with some fun people. And hell, I have a job. That's more than a lot of people can say these days.

She wheels the carts up to the front of the store to start filling the empty table. It's 6 pm, an absolutely gorgeous summer evening. Customers are still coming in, sun-kissed and smiling after enjoying a weekend in the sun.

He comes out from inside the produce department, carrying the ugly almost-beige polo shirt in his hand. "I'm outta here, thank God," he says on his way to punch out. He continues his rant on his way out the door, well past the empty carts. "I'm free. I'm off the clock. Now I can say it as loud as I want: F*CK SHAW'S, YOU ARE THE DEVILLLL!"

She looks out after him. The sun is still out, there isn't a cloud in the sky. For a minute, she seriously considers dumping the cart of baked goods right there on the floor and following him out of the store to sweet freedom. Her better judgement eventually pulls through, and she waits the extra hour until her shift is over before leaving.

The next morning, at 7 AM, she slaps some labels on pakages of dessert shells and brings them up to produce, where he's rotating some kind of odd apricot-plum hybrid fruit.

"SO great to be back here, huh??" he says sarcastically.

"Haha. Feels like I never even left," she replies. And as she says it, she finds it funny that despite everyone's constant whining about how much they hate it, the same faces always show up the next day, the next week, the next month, year, decade.

They weren't lying... something about it certainly does have the capability to suck you in.

picture prompt from Write On Right Now! http://www.writeonrightnow.blogspot.com/



if only autism could speak.

Being in constant severe pain and not being able to tell your parents or doctor what's happening must really suck. The words and the emotions are there, but they can't come out. It's not your fault, it's just the way you were made.

Man. Talk about frustrating. I feel for ya, kid...I don't know how you put up with it. If it was me, I'd probably be biting myself and everyone around me too.

Hang in there.