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.