She was plopped down on her bed, her laptop on her lap at 11:03 pm. It was a Thursday. A part of her brain willed her to go back to sleep, now that she had finished washing herself and her clothes. She didn't want to sleep just yet, however, she wanted to write a bit first. Just a teensy bit about her life and how it unfolded. She considered gussying it up a bit to make it seem more exciting then it really was, but she decided against it in the end.
Her day had passed pretty much uneventful, an average day at school, albeit a particularly slow one. Her few highlights of her academic hours past had been her free period, where she played (More like faillled D :) Starcraft with her friends, and lunch, when she played D&D with the same friends and more.
She hadn't bothered with her hair today, and even slacked on the clothing department, opting for a messy ponytail hidden under a hat, and an aging tank top hidden under a sweater. This was due in part to the fact that she had been up late the night before with her best friend, and in part to the fact that she assumed she wasn't going to see him today. She didn't like to admit it, but in the soft glow of her nightstand light, she felt like she could type it up.
She had seen him today however, first, as she entered her place of work. He was leaving with a few friends of theirs. Out searching for ways to make money and places to spend that money on. She expected that to be all she saw of him today, and hummed "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" to herself as she worked. She remarked that the only reason she knew the song was because it played in the opening and ending sequences of Fallout 2. In 1998 she had spent many a day watching her parents search out the fabled vault 13.
She saw him again when he showed up at her place of work, determined to sit out the hours until she was off.
"I don't get off for another two hours!" she said, sitting on a book stool, a book with a call number of 649.xxx was halfway to it's cataloged location, frozen in her hand.
"So?" He said. She laughed and offered to sign him into a computer.
When work was over, they both piled into her mother's car and back to her place, where they promptly lay down and fell asleep. They slept just long enough for him to miss his bus home.
Sitting with her laptop 20 minutes later, she reread her story, and didn't speak. She didn't like how the last lines would seem like an outright lie to anyone who didn't know her. Despite the fact that they were impeccably true and also completely plausible. She figured that people reading would think that she had inserted "sleeping" as substitute for something much more explicit. She smirked and shook her head. Sleeping is awesome.
She thought also that she should mention her best friend, who she had shared kraft dinner and perogies with today. Her best friend who recently said something out loud that She herself was never strong enough to admit when she was in a similar situation. She smiled and mimed holding up a glass in toasting motion. "A toast!" she thought "To Harold Q Poppinjay, My best friend and a strong person."
She realized that neither person mentioned in this blog would read it, and she was okay with that. She was ready to sleep.
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