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.