Thursday, March 31, 2005

166.

His name was Samuel J. Zondervan - a name bristling with promise for the future.

165.

He saw her every day of the week, yet he did not grow tired of the conversation.

164.

The pastor paid.

163.

All her resolutions disappeared with the light of dawn.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

162.

When will it fall off?

Monday, March 28, 2005

161.

It only took a single word for him to lose his intense focus.

160.

She lay on her bed unable to fall asleep, haunted by the scenes of her imagination.

159.

There was a little cockroach at the bottom of her coffee cup, mired in sugary death.

158.

Sunday after Sunday after Sunday, the Christians celebrated the triumph of life over death.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

157.

Today, the silence between silence.

Friday, March 25, 2005

156.

It was an infarcted mole.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

155.

The dental floss squeezed the mole at its base, cutting off the blood supply.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

154.

The emails ricocheted back and forth, like the puck in table hockey.

153.

He closed his eyes -- the cue for his dream to dust off its skirts and start the play.

Friday, March 18, 2005

152.

What is a petulant breast anyway?

151.

He cleaned his glasses assiduously, and put them back on the bridge of his nose; but he refused to open his eyes.

150.

The "Super" instant noodles tasted like it was made out of plastic and glue.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

149.

Are these the pretty shards of a single mirror, or the recycled glass that is being crushed for a million tarred roads?

148.

She touched his arm for the briefest moment to say goodbye.

147.

The woman kept her fingernails short; she couldn't shake off the old schoolgirl habit.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

146.

She was cold. She hugged herself, one arm nestled under a full petulant breast.

145.

The woman squatted outside the temple by the side of the pavement with a plastic bag full of tissue paper, staring at the pavement, pleading with her eyes.

144.

The desperate writer grasped straw in his hands, making bricks of mortar and air.

143.

This bus plies between Toa Payoh and somewhere else, possibly Clementi.

142.

No room.

141.

Between the sacrificial and the utilitarian, seminarians always choose the sacrificial.

Monday, March 14, 2005

140.

The man placed an $888 bet on the horse on 8/8/88. Of course, it came in... 8th.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

139.

She crossed out the item with a thick pencil stroke.

138.

"I'm tired," she said to anyone who would listen.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

137.

Mother, father, daughter by the newspaper-lined coffee table having dinner.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

136.

The light from the setting sun reflected off the still water, turning everything into brilliant gold.

Monday, March 07, 2005

135.

She also removed a comma splice.

134.

Monday morning. She changed her prounouns, ordered her account, took out her diary and made a To-Do List.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

133.

She didn't know why there were mosquitoes in the loo, and cockroaches in her room. And that when she finally killed the cockroach, it was over her only pair of clean decent pants on a morning of a fancy mancy work dinner.

? 132.

Part of me him just wants wanted to go mad. Part of me fantasizes him fantasized about jumping out of the window , and tasting the concrete on my his bloodied lips.

Friday, March 04, 2005

131.

In a split second, she made up her mind: she would not marry.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

130.

She laboured to keep walking on the edge of the precipice, even as a voice taunted her to let herself fall.

129.

Once in a while, a word would get caught in the gears. The cogs would continue to move, shredding it slowly, reliving the wound, relieving the meaning.

128.

There was nothing, nothing, nothing.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

127.

The skinny baboon gave a large yawn as he stood waiting for his bus.