Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories.
It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines.
I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart.
Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars.
It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned.
Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town.
It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down.
Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths.
"Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...
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I was going to count how many letters I was allowed to type, but after I got to 78, it got boring and I stopped caring. I read my blog sometimes, too. I do not want to give myself anymore eye issues then I already have to begin with.