1102.

I am Samaritan.

1101.

I pray for him.

1100.

The boy desperately wanted to grow up. At home, he would put on his
cadet uniform and pretend to be stronger, older, more manly... But
when he was in school, he cried because he missed home.

1099.

The company of friends and family was sweeter than honey, more precious than gold, and as comforting as a grandma-sewn quilt blanket.

1098.

Christ is risen!

1097.

It made her happy, so happy that she started to sing.

1096.

Grilled pork with a rind of fat that melts in your mouth.

1095.

Regular people had pets or infants or cars as their babies; she had an entire country of 1.15 million people.

1094.

The poem took on a life of its own.

1093.

The picture, tagged with an email address, travelled through the world
wide web, hopped onto the blackberry network, and popped up on her
sister's mobile phone.

1092.

Children who play with fire get burnt.

1091.

Young man in old man's cardigan.

1090.

Shivering.

1089.

It was an animated mask.

1088.

The teacher sat in the staff room with a waxen, expressionless face.
In fifteen minutes, she would go to class and be a different person.

1087.

Steps in sets of 8. Twelve sets will bring you to the bus stop.

1086.

She counted her way to work.

1085.

我们是新加坡公民，誓愿不分种族， 言语，宗教， 团结一致，建设公正平等的民主社会， 并为实现国家之幸福，繁荣与进步，共同努力。

1084.

The wounded healer; the wounded teacher.

1083.

Feeling blue, so she hung around her parents and a noisy tv.

1082.

None of this fancy-nancy modern toilet bowl stuff.

1081.

Squatting, after all, is the best position for shitting.

1080.

He tried anyway.

1079.

If he wanted to squat on the toilet bowl, does that make him autistic?

1078.

Sitting on the toilet, she wanted to pray; but she thought it somewhat disrespectful.

1077.

也许他的梦想会成真。

1076.

十五夜

1075.

Old men eating their dinners at the coffeeshop. Young women waiting for their dinners at the coffeeshop.

1074.

It was the night of the fifteenth day of the new year.

1073.

It got dark slowly; so slowly that perhaps we should say, it got blue.

1072.

She wished she had the words to describe the strong wispy pine swaying in the deepening twilight.

1071.

Craving prayer.

1070.

A chronicle of the descent into madness.

1069.

Who wants to lie here, and sleep all day?

1068.

You want to lie here, and sleep all day.

1067.

Somebody wanted to lie there, and sleep all day.

1066.

He wanted to lie there, and sleep all day.

1065.

She wanted to lie there, and sleep all day.

1064.

I want to lie here, and sleep all day.

1063.

For a pineapple.

1062.

Repetitive behaviour: at risk.

1061.

Nomads travelling north, west, north, south.

1060.

Platitudes.

1059.

The tongue is like the bit of a horse. Though small, it controls the whole animal.

1057.

My kingdom for an armadillo.

1058.

For an aardvark.

1056.

Their memories were shards of glass.

1055.

Nonsense jabberwocky words to keep her sane.

1054.

A tractor! A tractor! My kingdom for a tractor!

1053.

She was not well.

1052.

Indian construction workers at the back of a pickup truck with packets of teh.

1051.

It seemed more comforting in church.

1050.

A comforting thought: that Christ is the author and finisher of his faith.

1049.

Thinking about the future was like walking into an empty room to look for a chair that was not there.

1048.

It was as if he had a frontal lobotomy: he found it impossible to imagine the future.

1047.

Dustu bacha! - Na!

1046.

A present in crumpled gold paper, with words in black marker pen: "Happy birthday P.!"

1045.

A singing choo choo train weaved among the diners.

1044.

Drunk in a museum.

1043.

He stumbled upon happiness.

1042.

The man had a withered hand.

1041.

She was afraid. She did not know how to stop being afraid.

1040.

A Teochew reply: "Dang Dang Ju Yi"

1039.

A teochew greeting: "Xing Jia Ju Yi"

1038.

Again, she flew away. But the feeling was ordinary now.

1037.

Not forgetting the vinegar and chopped spring onions.

1036.

Ground garlic and sliced chilli in a sticky black sauce. What am I?

1035.

A roomful of economists stumped over the price of bah kwa.

1034.

Who could put Humpty Dumpty together again?

1033.

Oh, to be a man!

1032.

The tyranny of experts.

1031.

She liked working with her hands. Why did she live off the business
of words?

1030.

She wanted half a bowl of Maxwell Market Chicken Porridge.

1029.

Going to bed hungry.

1028.

But not human dignity.

1027.

There was something about the air, something in the water, that broke hearts.

1026.

Equality is a myth.

1025.

She could not explain to her friend that she was scared.

1024.

Planning life in two-hour slots.

1023.

She couldn't stop crying.

1022.

She cried.

1021.

I asked him why he was a priest, and he said if you have to work for anybody an absentee boss is best. - Winterson, Passion, 19.

1020.

A bench in New York in the night-time.

1019.

The hot, dry scent of sand mingled with the aroma of fried chicken.

1018.

Befuddled.

1017.

He was proud that he was a meticulous baby.

1016.

Why is it that everytime he ate at KFC he felt like he had to go for confession and say five Hail Marys?

1015.

She took a bus through Shenton Way. She was glad she was not an office drone.

1014.

As much as she hated her phone, she kept it fully charged up.

1013.

Time to get ready to meet May for coffee.

1012.

... I can't pick up the phone?

1011.

He had an arm strength of 140%.

1010.

Bubbles that floated away into the night, carrying wishes for the new year.

1009.

She would succumb.

1008.

Along a deserted footpath on a night-time run: two men with skin weathered brown, painting the metal fence of the railway station white.

1007.

He spent the last day of the old year in bed.

1006.

It made him cry.

1005.

It was only a matter of punching in the numbers to get an echo of her own longing and want.

1004.

The song was a mirror made of broken pieces of glass.

1003.

"There was Spike, moored between the long piers of Nebraska's legs, lapping at the jetty.  She looked happy, in a silicon sort of way." (Stone Gods, 175)

1002.

A Cantonese saying passed down from my grandmother to my father to me: "Businessmen bend down, pick up a fistful of sand, and sell it to you."

1001.

All her life, she had to say goodbye.

1000.

`But what if we should topple in and find that there is no bottom?'
`Then, we shall fall,' she said,
`and fall into each other's arms.'

999.

`Are you there?' she said.
`We are at the very edge of the world.'
`I know,' she answered.
`But it is not over yet.'

998.

Sometimes, unconsciously, wistfully, she held on to her own hair.

997.

She laughed. And it sounded like rain in the desert. It had been a long time.

996.

Getting her life together may be as simple as following a nursing home routine: shower, breakfast, read, work, fluff(friends), sleep.

995.

Tidiness is next to sanity.

994.

She was angry and so she wrote: "dear GOD WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO???????"

993.

She had hope has an anchor for her soul, but she lost her grip on the chain.

992.

Love possesses. devours. extinguishes.

991.

Perhaps it would have been better never to have loved. To live as a pauper to the end of one's days.

990.

Like Frodo on the cleft of the rock at the end of the world, having forgotten the sound of birds singing, the feel of grass, the smell of morning dew. At least Frodo had a friend. God. Where has Samwise gone?

989.

She tried to keep despair at bay but it crept into her life like a wolf, devouring everything that moved.

988.

The sms sucked the hope out of her heart.

987.

She needed something soft — like a pillow — to comfort her.

986.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tune: whispering hope.

985.

Mr M & M had a beanie on his head and an arrow on his hat.

984.

Even her pee smelled of caffeine.

983.

The thick black coffee coursed through her blood and she couldn't
help fidgeting.

982.

It was time for a change: she would cut her hair, work 24-7, be a nun.

981.

Hm, do you remember when I last used the phrase: a piece of cloth
wrung out again and again?

980.

She wore a rainbow carpet on her shirt.

979.

It was the weekend again.

978.

Desperate for forgiveness, perhaps?

977.

She dreamt of a swimming pool again. A pool that she was not allowed to swim in.

976.

Every time you feel this way, please please remember to pray.

975.

Late at night and she was scared.

974.

If a butterfly flies, is the butterfly happy?

973.

She hummed to herself
a little song
Fly, little butterfly, fly...

972.

A hot bowl of noodles out of a handful of frozen peas, carrots and
corn, two pieces of dried scallop, and a packet of shrimp flavoured
ramen.

971.

Her mother made a spaghetti out of buckwheat noodle, salsa, tiong
bahru bao chilli sauce, shitake mushrooms, onions and ground beef.

970.

Cheng tng in a cup with a fat straw.

969.

She had her sad face on, but she didn't know it.

968.

Endless nights.

967.

A dream: walking on a boulevard.

966.

When would self-preservation kick in?

965.

The depth of terror threatened to overwhelm her mind.

964.

Somehow, dissecting a story like that made it lose its lyrical charm.

963.

Everything had to be black and white; sorted and categorized into steel boxes, labelled accordingly.

962.

The nuances of feeling went unsaid.

961.

Suddenly, because the sky got dark perhaps, she got sad.

960.

Sorry Mdm I cannot identify the ten methods of creating tension in a
text. But I have more than enough as it is.

959.

Sitting in class and letting the words wash over her.

958.

These days, she functioned only in the extreme ends of the spectrum of emotion.

957.

The awful power to hurt.

956.

She panicked. Heart racing, vision growing dark, she broke out in a cold sweat.

955.

Alone today. And. in pieces.

954.

Ninety-seven years old and a fighter.

953.

Tonight, they are both broken-hearted.

952.

There's no mistake about it — she's a scum, through and through.

951.

Suddenly she remembered that she was supposed to be rehearsing her script.

950.

As pink as redhill.

949.

She became obsessed about arranging the money in her wallet.

948.

Something in her died.

947.

Bodies of power and grace.

946.

She spaced out between Outram and Boon Lay.

945.

A bunch of stars were misaligned — totally unfortunate.

944.

She deserved to be alone.

943.

Tears at a funeral; tears in an underpass.

942.

A red moose keychain.

941.

An uneaten spicy chicken puff.

940.

The Practice of Solitude.

939.

Empty bottles: ginseng and luo han chrysanthemum tea.

938.

She sent herself a "hug a dork".

937.

On facebook: a thumbnail of everyone she knew and will know.

936.

Work was comforting in a mundane way.

935.

Hello world.

934.

Red sake poured over ice... a beautiful lady.

933.

Perhaps she needed to get away to a sunny island by herself.

932.

The day began without a coffee.

931.

All she wanted to do was to drink hot soup.

930.

A tart, sour drink — good for the throat — a mother's love.

929.

She slammed the ball into the wall, sweat dripping off her chin.

928.

They needed each other in unspeakable ways.

927.

And something held their tremulous hearts together — not joy, not hope — but something from the past, a distant echo of love.

926.

They sat on the sloped grass beside the lily pond, a dog in between them.

925.

They had dinner together, but their hearts were elsewhere.

924.

"Good as gold," she said.

923.

Walking down the street, singing a sad song.

922.

She wanted to squeeze herself into a capsule and shoot herself into the stars.

921.

The wake's at the same place as her own grandfather's, but she wasn't there for the first.

920.

Two trains: travelling in the same direction at the same speed, never getting closer.

919.

Cold samosas at midnight.

918.

She fell asleep with Japanese in her head...

917.

917.

916.

Time slows down at the end.

915.

Grief does make you want to weep and gnash your teeth.

914.

Who am I?

913.

A yellow line painted across the grill.

912.

Cozy white cushions around a square table — she felt cold.

911.

He ate his dinner on his feet.

910.

He ate his dinner at the food court.

909.

He ate his dinner at the bus-stop.

908.

He felt a bit like a loser, wandering about town on a Saturday evening.

907.

She upset his equilibrium.

906.

Worried. Losing connection.

905.

MSN was a time in/ time out machine.

904.

Lying in bed typing an essay. It's kinda nice.

903.

Dark aureole surreptitious under thin cotton.

902.

Brown, white, furry...

901.

The attraction is in the illicit.

900.

He wanted desperately to be wise, to be able to see through hearts and still have compassion.

899.

Sitting on the floor, scanning.

898.

After a haircut, a thought: "She's going to hate me."

897.

Now you see it. Now you don't.

896.

Mentos-tinged kisses play in an SMS.

895.

Mentos on the desk, blue and cute, and sweet.

894.

The red-brick water tower had ivy growing up its sides and fronds crowning its head.

893.

Fruitbat, along with the other fruit bats, dived and played in the clear cool water.

892.

The mid-afternoon tropical downpour filled the eighty year old water tower with cool clean water.

891.

It was the perfect day.

890.

Red, red rose.

889.

She listens to the sound of fireworks from her window.

888.

The auspicious number.

887.

Late at night, and she was trying to fix the Palm for her.

886.

What if she had missed her life's purpose?

885.

She could not help feeling guilty. If she had been less selfish, would it have turned out different?

884.

I'm sitting on a bus feeling empty, empty, empty as a drum.

883.

Fresh-faced, they invaded the school with their youthful enthusiasm.

882.

They have not yet been let down.

881.

Quiet. and Sad. the sounds of the city.

880.

You smell like a rambutan.

879.

No, I'm not sleepy yet.

878.

She forgot why anyone should like her — was it her quiet demeanor, her obnoxious opinions, her unconscious gestures? — what a preposterous idea!

877.

Being strong was simply a matter of trying not to cry.

876.

Her life was a prison. Because her life was a lie.

875.

Twenty-three minutes past midnight and I write this.

874.

I want to write a love story. Preferably mine.

873.

Looking in her eyes, she saw forever.

872.

She remained in a serious mood, even as the majestic trees, the voluminous clouds, the quiet water and the `now' in nature threatened to break her soul into song.

871.

She didn't enjoy herself, except by imagining that she was with him.

870.

I spoke to a woman I used to love today, in a café in the desert. (Fragile Things, 304)

869.

I thought i was your destination. Looks like i was just another stop on the line. (Fragile Things, 304)

868.

She said, "I love you." It fell like a coin into a deep dark well,
without an echo.

867.

Death becomes her? A snitch in time saves two?

866.

Afraid.

865.

Sour chilli in her nose, following her to work.

864.

It is unbelievable that in one hour and forty-five minutes, they
should create for her 20 hours of work.

863.

He heard her say, "Are we breaking up this weekend?"

862.

Those in the closet learn to stake their claim inconspicuously.

861.

She peered at the videocamera screen - an inquisitive pixie.

860.

She hated having to be verbal.

859.

All my friends are married and I cannot settle down.

858.

Chinese fans and a sexy pose.

857.

Two pillows propped vertical on a bed.

856.

`What is the time?' she asked. `Well, we woke up late,' she replied.

855.

`Tell me the time' you say.  And what you really say is `Tell me a story.' (Weight, 7)

854.

By the time she unwrapped the rubber, she had forgotten what she had
to erase!

853.

The watercooler leaked through his screws.

852.

It boomed, then cackled with electricity.

851.

She loves the way pencil shavings curl around a sharpener.

850.

Between getting to work and starting the day, the sky got bright.

849.

Doubled over in her wheelchair, the girl with the stocky body and skinny limbs used her legs and hands to push herself forward. She looked like a hermit crab.

848.

She smelled of sweat, in the pleasant way that only females can smell
— somewhat salty and musky, a general aura of efficiency.

847.

The body is such a frail, fragile thing.

846.

But she was forgetting that victory in between, on the bishop's
kneeler, that brought hope.

845.

It was hard to find peace when the last time round, you lost.

844.

Worry ate at her.

843.

She eased herself back into the week. What did she have to get done tomorrow?

842.

Vegetables as penitence.

841.

She forced herself to finish the huge bowl of bright green vegetables, and she felt cleansed.

840.

Love is hanging out in the library because you're waiting for your buddy to return a book on your card, so that you can borrow something for you, and something for your buddy too.

839.

The tulips she gave her came back, pressed in glass.

838.

Something about work that redeems the soul.

837.

One day, she would forget every thing in between, except for the
memories as a teen.

836.

It's been a long time since she felt lonely.

835.

She bought orchids for a dollar.

834.

An upside down dustbin cigarette tray masquerading as tall black hat.

833.

Her name was emily. And when he heard the name the first time, he wanted to bury his nose in her arm and take in that sweet smell that is her.

832.

She got used to leaving half a cup of drink just in case her buddy wanted it.

831.

Something about talcum powder and cotton tees feels like home.

830.

Because her friend told her that she was brave, she felt braver than she really was.

829.

She had her buddy's cramps.

828.

So should we pass it in parliament: an eye if you should covet your neighbour's wife?

827.

She wished they had kept their mouth shut but what can we do about it? He is after all the defender of the faith.

826.

Sweet friend, don't you know that I pray for you?

825.

It is a shame that his bed is empty.

824.

She had done enough for the day; she thinks she ought to space out and go to bed now.

823.

It gave her an irresistable urge to buy comic books.

822.

Stress was a big hairy monster that she was determined to subdue.

821.

A fantastic imaginary menagerie: Yertle the scapegoat, Fruitbat the knuckle-sucker, K-bird the long-distance hummingbird, Pinkie the sunburnt bear, Brain who saw parachutes, and Jessie the ring-leader who has a talent at playing dead.

820.

She coveted her neighbour's chicken.

819.

Her holiday: stripping down, gearing up; stripping down, gearing up; stripping, stripping, stripping.

818.

They walked until they got tired and then sat down to have lychee sorbet, coffee, and bacon-wrapped mushrooms.

817.

Try as she might, she could not thinking about ants.

816.

Ashes on the forehead, a reminder that we are dust.

815.

Her MacBook was quiet, so quiet that she couldn't tell that it was breathing, except for the throbbing white light.

814.

I can't read her blog. It makes me jealous of everything I'm not.

813.

A ball of sock cuddled in the cup of a bra.

812.

Gone are the days of wind-up clocks, where time moved languid and progressively slow.

811.

She wore a ring so that she could fidget when she needed to.

810.

Sealed with a kiss.

809.

Their hands reached out to grab an anchor in the dark.

808.

She felt somewhat vulnerable, as if she had no clothes on.

807.

The back of the dragon's teeth were mossy.

806.

It is scary who she was when she was asleep.

805.

Would you breed it out if you could?

804.

He wore yellow Phua Chu Kang rubber boots.

803.

The construction worker had pale feet.

802.

Trying not to be stressed.

Trying not to be stressed.

Trying not to be stressed.

801.

She chose the dull-looking bird in her hand over the multitude of birds in the sky.

800.

Possibly the longest afternoon ever.

799.

The lady with a large lump on the back of her neck smiled broadly when her bus came, and said, "六一来了。"

798.

The resurrection of the body reminded him of R.C. Sproul which reminded him of Pope Bud, and he thought, "I think I'll write an email."

797.

One tablespoon grounds; four-fifths cup hot water; one-fifth cup cold milk; one TALL cup coffee.

796.

A PE teacher standing at the bottom of a hill with a watch in his hand. Boys in yellow tshirts running as if their limbs were loose.

795.

On Mondays, everything looks bleak.

794.

Cocooned in the bus, her body shuttled to work.

793.

She felt like curling up on the pew and letting the words wash over her.

792.

When she clicked link after link after link, what was it that she was looking for?

791.

Water to sink in; water to drink. They were fundamentally different substances.

790.

She plunged in headfirst. She was determined to survive this.

789.

I'm scared. Won't you hold my hand?

788.

What is the point of twittering to yourself?

787.

It was a double-shot coffee kinda day.

786.

She had the face of a cat and the body of a nubile woman.

785.

The pictures carried him to a land of shifting sand and a pale rising moon. He was surprised how familiar she looked.

784.

She needed to go to bed but she was hopelessly addicted.

783.

It was a spongey kind of yummy.

782.

And warm and fuzzies too.

781.

She was going away for a week, so she stocked up on internet.

780.

They went for a walk with snuffy.

779.

Her throat itched. She wanted a test tube scrubber.

778.

After the intrusion of the divine, she could go back to being normal.

777.

Finally, at God's number.

776.

Dancing in the dark.

775.

She really wished that he was wallowing in regret, but he was moving on quite nicely.

774.

Last year, she was afraid that everything would remain the same. This year, she's afraid that everything would be different.

773.

She made lesbian drama sexy.

772.

Every time they accidentally found themselves in the lift together, they made stilted comments about the weather.

771.

Thank God she worked on the sixth floor.

770.

She made an effort to be reconciled, but they would never be comfortable in each other's presence again.

769.

But she didn't have anyone to tell it to.

768.

Her new favourite piece of info: the f-stop is calculated by dividing the length of the lens by its diameter.

767.

She was lonely.  So she pushed away the people she loved.

766.

Except it is not.

765.

Strangely, it is rather like falling in love.

764.

Colour me carrot.

763.

She's curious about me. I'm curious about her.

762.

This is how she knew he had moved on: he posted pictures of a dinner made for two.

761.

'twas the night before Christmas...

760.

They told lies as a web to hide their true feelings for each other, but everyone saw through them anyway.

759.

He missed her; if only just the sense of having a friend in the same room.

758.

Is it a little sad that he was sitting in front of the computer blogging on the Saturday of the long weekend?

757.

The widow bragged about her father and what a godly man he was, but she kept quiet about the deep unspeakable affection she had for her late husband.

756.

She could finish as much in half a day as she could in a full day.

755.

She had a diplomatic problem.

754.

She did magic with her toes.

753.

hey baby, i love you. i think you rock.

752.

She tried to figure out what he was thinking from the squiggles on the paper.

751.

Ultimately, self-absorbed.

751.

So he waited to see who would IM him.

750.

Her knee felt tight and wobbly at the same time.

749.

She rubbed her eyes and crossed the road.

748.

She dreamt of being alone.

747.

Inserting a tampon is like lifting weights -- it is easier if you exhale.

746.

And she wondered if it would be like this at the end of the world.

745.

The accumulation of hope.

744.

It was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life.

743.

Having to keep awake was a torture.

742.

She tried very hard to compartmentalize the fear but she couldn't; it ate her up, sending her stomach into acidic paroxysms, but for one precious moment after roast beef and red wine, she chilled out.

741.

Just like God's.

740.

A pendent with diamonds and a Coach bag: an extravagent kind of love.

739.

She sent the email three times, like the man who kept knocking at midnight...

738.

Before she got to her coffee, she had accumulated five tasks.

737.

A folded bolster in a backpack.

736.

The china man dragged his travel bag onto the bus, making a screeching sound.

735.

The plain lady in the cotton shirt had a fancy gold button on the back pocket of her pants.

734.

She had moments of bravery.  Everything she ever did, she did in those moments.

733.

She lay in bed and tried not to fall asleep.

732.

Scared.

731.

One eyebrow was shorter than the other.

730.

The instantaneous possessed her.

729.

When she has her own place, she will make lasagne. Just less indulgent.

728.

She placated the grumpy girl.

727.

He wore three watches.  It was everything he had.

726.

She called to say that she would be watching TV.

725.

She said: "May your dreams be mine too."

724.

It tasted of pomelo.

723.

The fruitbat was also somewhat afraid of wombats.

722.

The fruitbat wore a tux.

721.

They shared a fruitbat.

720.

What about those flowers and animals who are both male and female at the same time?

719.

Technically, it is impossible to be turned on by your own body; technically, that is.

718.

Show me exactly how the heart, the mind and the body is linked, and I will show you the essence of man.

717.

How much money must a person have to feel secure?

716.

She concentrated on smiling, furrowing her brow. What an adorable picture!

715.

Firefox also made her an American.

714.

Firefox was her invisible spelling tutor.

713.

They flipped the switch and expected the light to come on, like magic.  And when it didn't, they looked at each other with blank faces.

712.

An afterthought strayed. She decided she would leave it alone.

711.

The great saint prayed, "Give me chastity, but not yet."

710.

He looked back at where he came from. It was barren without a drop of water. How could he go back?

709.

Her friend told her that she had been out of sorts the last few weeks and she was surprised, because she hadn't noticed.

708.

And these were the markers of the places they made up: a k-bird, a fruitbat, and a bolster who read all day long.

707.

Because they had no space to belong, they made up their own places.

706.

It is easy to ________, yet through ________, the heart of _______ shines through.

705.

There was a restlessness in her ________ that could not be put out.

704.

The sexual connotations are unmistakable.

703.

She apologised.

702.

Beauty she held in her hands, soft as a petal.

701.

The words cut her as a hot knife through butter.

700.

It was hard to smile; her face was like plasticine.

699.

She had on her sad face.

698.

Runner's Magazines in the doorway, for a hypothyroid girl.

697.

She explained how to do a complicated, contorted exercise to strengthen the ITB over the phone -- "with one leg on a step, swing the hip back and forth" -- which made her friend laugh and forget her blues.

696.

So she filled the silence with her own story, shared a thousand times over, until all meaning had been squeezed out: a dry, drained muslin cloth.

695.

And my heart broke for her.

694.

Her eyes reddened and she said, "Yes, God spoke to me once before, but that one... very sad." And then she kept quiet.

693.

And his favourite phrase was: happy like toad.

692.

He had a laugh that ricochetted off the walls and echoed in your mind for a long time after.

691.

If I am damned with you or with you, I choose to be damned with you.

690.

So he settled on maybe.

689.

He found that his mind had a rivet right through it and that he was vascillating, no, spinning, between yes and no.

688.

He absent-mindedly doodled on the paper: "Yes. No. Maybe." Suddenly, he realised that right beside his doodle were the exact same words, in cursive script.

687.

He had an elephant inside his belly.

686.

She was lost without her compass.

685.

Her heart felt sick. So she ate too much.

684.

Where is Colin?

683.

She received more emails from virtual friends than real-life friends.

682.

She said she was asexual.

681.

Mondays made her sick.

680.

Make the right connection between a name and the right moniker, and suddenly... Just remember: he never meant to tell you.

679.

"The little indicator light that comes on when it is on standby makes it look like it's breathing. I am so in love. :) "

678.

She was happy. She had one regular beef bowl from Yoshinoya, one A1 crispy curry puff, and one can of chrysanthemum tea.

677.

And in many ways, it was a beach of diamonds.

676.

Without her glasses, it seemed to her that she was running on a beach of diamonds.

675.

She planned a day of indoor activities.

674.

Addiction came to her in the form of a mouse and a broadband connection.

673.

For this reason, she would never be a great writer.

672.

Her pen paused for the briefest moment as she was tempted by the keen danger of the word she was about to write, but she inked the more innocuous synonym.

671.

She cut the papaya and mango into the most delectable slices.

670.

The sweat collected under her skin in numerous little bubbles.

669.

The trouble with anonymity was that he had two blogging accounts, two flickr accounts and two accounts to every story told.

668.

He read the book bound like The Bible.

667.

He wanted to be mysterious too, but he was addicted to blogging.

666.

666. The devil's mobile.

665.

The sun burned her skin -- it felt as if it was on fire -- but there was no turning back now.

664.

She was mysterious, like the dancing shadow of a naked flame.

663.

It was as if her heart fell away from her.

662.

She ran until she found herself gasping for breath.

661.

And he said to himself, "I am so bloody gonna ace that bloody test."

660.

Why did she think she would have felt so much better if she had won that $10 voucher, as if that miserly $10 represents a way out of her dead-end funk of a job?

659.

He slipped into his online identity easily.  Does this make him schizophrenic?

658.

What is it about hot homecooked soup?

657.

What is it about fuzzy checkered shorts that makes you feel loved?

656.

She wrote an email to the director, who forwarded it to the assitant director, who forwarded it to the Human Relations Officer, who replied to say that she would be looking into her case.

655.

Emails make the world flat.

654.

So she watched a slideshow of his new life.

653.

"How singular life is, how changeable! What a little thing it takes to save you or to lose you." Guy de Maupassant, The Necklace

651.

In the dead of the night, he felt like the only one alive.

650.

She concentrated on hitting the squash ball with perfect drive and form. She raised her racquet, coiled her back, and hit her friend square on the jaw.

649.

The second time, he rented a loudhailer and looked for sympathy.

648.

When he first broke up, he collapsed quietly into himself.

647.

Coffee Swiss Roll from the local bakery washed down with black unsweetened coffee: a not-so-subtle taste sensation.

646.

Dressed in a business shirt and pants, the skinny man's delicate hands moved deftly over the controls of his portable video console, his eyes darting back and forth the tiny screen.

645.

And so she kept from herself her most secret thoughts.

644.

But she couldn't.

643.

And she thought, if I could only clean my desk, I think I can get out of this funk.

642.

pimple. shit. shit. shit. shit.

641.

bored. stressed. miserable. stuck. frustrated.

640.

Actually, no matter what you say or do not say, it wouldn't have tainted my impression one bit. I'm sorry to read this, but I wish you the best.

639.

It seemed as if those five long years were just a temporary balm, and the wound was still as fresh.

638.

Well, why not sad? :)

637.

1:40am.

636.

The door closed, soft and resolute.

635.

After traversing the world and experiencing all kinds of marvels and mysteries, he still longed to go home to her.

634.

"And I thought, if only the fire could be kept burning, the future might be kept at bay and this moment would remain." Cherry, 70,

633.

If the internet were a big field, she would have rutted out a path to her favourite sites.

632.

She split open my belly to keep my from exploding.  What am I?

631.

Every so often she would need a strong drink.  The only problem being, she didn't drink.

630.

Damn the itch.  Damn the desire.  Damn the examined life.

629.

Damn the cost of living.  Damn my miserable pay.  Damn it all.

628.

Why is it that she kept wanting to be read by her ?

627.

Kiss, and say goodnight.

626.

Liver spots.. he never realised what an accurate description that was.

625.

She read a compilation of birthday stories on her friend's birthday.

624.

He was a man of the collar; he would die a man of the collar.

623.

So in this case, there was no need for alcohol.

622.

Because she was footing the bill, she felt more in control; because she felt more in control, she spoke more freely.

621.

He finished the heaped serving of shredded radish first.

620.

She wished that they had normal people options.

619.

Nervous. She had to write.

618.

She is going home now.

617.

It has been a long time.

616.

A mynah sang outside their window.

615.

I love you; I wish I could show it more; so I write it here.

614.

God permeated her thoughts, but she felt as far away from him as the heat of the moon beats on the earth.

613.

The smug couple, who knew nothing beyond their own limited personal experiences, believed that there was only one way to go about finding love.

612.

No, you don't know what I mean, you hear what I am saying, the words carefully chosen and put together, but you don't remember who I am, and you don't know what I mean.

611.

She couldn't navigate the future without a safety rope, but the rope was too short.

610.

God, who knows no need, created us with a thousand needs and desires.

609.

A train tumbles through the darkness; twenty years on, the emptiness will be filled with new flats and young families.

608.

It is weird watching yourself on TV.

607.

She had run out of words.

606.

a;ldkjf;lakjdf;lakjdf;lakjdf;lakjfa;lkjf.

605.

The man had curry smeared all over his mouth, and he asked, "Ke yi gei wo wu mao? wo yao da bus."

604.

She felt tired, in a defeated sort of way.

603.

Since the invention of the Word processor, she stopped learning how to spell new words.

602.

The Bougainvillea grew all over the Frangipani tree, crowning the white with brilliant pink.

601.

One night, an ocean crossed.

600.

It seemed as if something was missing.

599.

She is hot!

598.

Art is copied.

597.

They found it at Norfolk.

596.

She wouldn't have made a difference if she had waited, but she wanted to get it out of her mind as quickly as possible.

595.

Two shirts on a single hanger, stained with blood.

594.

She shrugged off the compliment.

593.

For this same reason: it is technically impossible to live forever.

592.

It is technically impossible to reach a million, so why do I bother?

591.

Which is worse? Being locked up in a prison cell, or beng locked in your own body by stroke?

590.

Page 166, Bus 166, the number criss-crossed in her life.

589.

Withered hope.

588.

Withered flowers tied to a blue sign: serious accident, 7 February, 12:39am.

587.

Write like you will be exposed; live like you will be judged.

586.

Origen was made to wear pink.

585.

Why did it feel like she was walking backwards?

584.

She said something, and then immediately regreted it.

583.

If you go back far enough, we share the same saints.

582.

Like Kierkegaard, the life of the party went home and despaired.

581.

A satin ribbon over a bare shoulder.

580.

Boredom, this generation's symptom of dissatisfaction.

579.

Her father's brithday, and she forgot.

578.

Blogs teach you how to keep a secret.

577.

The words in Matthew were a childhood melody, straining into the present like a familiar tune.

576.

That moment was singular. Time, on the other hand, is relentless.

575.

She put on her new watch with the dangling butterflies and asked, "Wanna know the time?"

574.

Love is a four-letter word.

573.

It lifted her spirits.

572.

The clearest soup, with spring onions, seaweed, tempura crumbs, and udon.

571.

He became prescriptive.

570.

A good upbringing is prophylaxis for the soul.

569.

The little girl sang in lilting voice, "He is good; He is good; And his love endures forever..."

568.

So, he bought a tshirt.

567.

A post-it note: EAT CAKE.

566.

Run, sprint, jog, trot, trudge, plod... all the same thing, really.

565.

The coffee ran in the bloodstream, awakening the giant.

564.

Doing is easier than managing.

563.

He unpacked his laptop with swift movements. He imagined himself a soldier.

562.

She had Jesus in her heart and Winnie the pooh on her underpants.

561.

They leaned into each other. Suddenly, they were lovers again.

560.

Somewhere, in between then and now, she lost her soul.

559.

We all try our best to be happy, don't we? But for some of us, we can never be completely so.

558.

He wrote steadily, a footnote a day.

557.

Long-life rain, that was what her father called it.

556.

This really was one of his less inspired posts; yet he liked it, a lot.

555.

555.

554.

He brought with him the rain.

553.

It was the wrong colour, the wrong number of slides, the wrong content.

552.

Now and forever.

551.

She wept for things she had not lost.

550.

Powerpoints are made by magick.

549.

Because of this, ek tutu.

548.

Her organisation system -- quick pencil scribblings on the side of coloured paper files.

547.

No, it was not an orgy.

546.

She was flying to Canada to marry all four of them, one girl and three guys.

545.

He went to church for a pair of earrings.

544.

Red, yellow, pink.

543.

Definitely a symptom of insanity.

542.

He took potshots. If you are skilled enough to join the dots, you will know his name.

542.

In between red and white, the essence of cotton candy.

541.

It is all about finding enough space.

540.

He stared into space, stewing in his own coffee breath.

539.

She wished time would turn back; yet, knowing this future, why should she even bother?

538.

The thought pierced through the thin veil of time.

537.

Suddenly, in the middle of the dried goods aisle, the reds got redder, the greens greener, and she felt reality slip from her like a falling silk handkerchief.

536.

So quickly, ten years went by. Yet she was still able to find the exact spot of that old, raw wound.

535.

When will be her turn to step off this mortal coil?

534.

The year loomed again in front of her, threatening to repeat itself to the most minute detail.

533.

Remember when she said she wasn't hungry? Well, she was lying.

532.

Am I content only with her pictures?

531.

Who did he write for? He wasn't sure. Probably only for himself and nameless strangers.

530.

She leaned forward to sip; it was restrained by cord.

529.

She tried her new legs.

528.

One of these days, he would touch his face and know that he is finally home.

527.

The posts ran into themselves, cross-eyed and muddled, yet somehow, a genuine comment slipped through. Thank you.

526.

Don't you see? Your name is written on the palms of my hands, on old school foolscap papers, on the flesh of my heart.