In summer, the setting sun hangs over the horizon for longer than in other seasons. People are gathered at the end of the pier to watch, they’re crowded two or three deep. The orange sun eventually sinks behind an Olympic.
A couple next to me are holding each other; and right at the moment that the last little fingernail clipping of sun disappears, the man let’s go of the woman and says, “That was it.” They turn back to the city and walk away from the sunset. Within a minute, half of the rest of the sunset’s audience have walked out too.
4 Comments
Heya cowboy. Just found your blog while browsing for gmail give away lmao. Humm if you still have invitations left can you send one to me? You see, my reason is, I live far away above and my job is registering for dead people. I need a bigger storage cause the boss is so chatty. He keeps sending messages about anything every single minute. UHum so yeah basicaly I need a big storage for his wimps rite?
Ciaooo
Hey, neat. Can I call you cowboy too?
You can call me cowboy if you can tell me what wimps rite is.
never mind the rambling. just give me a gmail invitation when you have it please. i’ll give you a blow kiss for that. deal?
cherry_angel50@hotmail.com
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