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.