Single sentence

[nycwriters]

Help weave a tale by adding one sentence at a time. It's quick, easy and no doubt will stray into the wacky ...


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The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself."

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played.

[noxxville]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

Sally recovered from her quiet suprise enough to ask "visiting your mum again?"

[danh]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

Sally recovered from her quiet suprise enough to ask "visiting your mum again?"

"It's a petunia, not a mum," he said in a half irritated sort of way, "I don't get why you can't see that, you must be blind or dumb."

[Cicatrice]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

Sally recovered from her quiet suprise enough to ask "visiting your mum again?"

"It's a petunia, not a mum," he said in a half irritated sort of way, "I don't get why you can't see that, you must be blind or dumb."
"Well you're the horticulturist Jeff, I've never even seen your little project anyway." Sally said, forcing a polite laugh in the face of his insults.

[Guido]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk ... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

Sally recovered from her quiet suprise enough to ask "visiting your mum again?"

"It's a petunia, not a mum," he said in a half irritated sort of way, "I don't get why you can't see that, you must be blind or dumb."

"Well you're the horticulturist Jeff, I've never even seen your little project anyway." Sally said, forcing a polite laugh in the face of his insults.

Beth and David made their way upstairs and Sally turned her attention back to the mirror.

[Gareon]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Sally wasn't fond of her roomate, and the impression she left on him didn't concern her greatly, but the girl accopanying him with the tattoos, the nose piercing, the mohawk ... Oh yes, she was definitely someone Sally badly regreted looking ridiculous for.

"Look," he said, obvious in his disdain, "I'm catching the ferry up the Sunshine Coast this weekend, you'll have the house to yourself." Sally supressed a surge of jealousy, and politely asked his friend's name.

"Oh, Beth," she said and gave a shy smile, that shyness strange given that Sally had just seen her flirting with the crowd as she played. Sally knew her little secret.

Sally recovered from her quiet suprise enough to ask "visiting your mum again?"

"It's a petunia, not a mum," he said in a half irritated sort of way, "I don't get why you can't see that, you must be blind or dumb."

"Well you're the horticulturist Jeff, I've never even seen your little project anyway." Sally said, forcing a polite laugh in the face of his insults.

Beth and David made their way upstairs and Sally turned her attention back to the mirror. She stared at her own reflection and wondered why she couldn't detect the sudden twitch in her left eye, even though she felt it; how odd that tension was so palpable and yet invisible; and for a second she wondered (again) if her fate wasn't to be felled by a cerebral hemmorhage.

[petitesoeur]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Jane's face contorted into her "what an idiot you are" look, as she spat out: " So you think that's gonna attract some Tom, Dick or Harry?"

[nycwriters]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Jane's face contorted into her "what an idiot you are" look, as she spat out: " So you think that's gonna attract some Tom, Dick or Harry?"

She was struck dumb by the venom (she didn't know where it came from, she never knew where it came from) but Jane's tourretic bouts of hate were normal.

[joppa.gal]

The sunshine nearly blinded Sally as she stepped out onto her front porch. A wasp hovered above her unsuspecting head and began explaining its master plan to the hydrangeas.

The neighborhood seemed to burst with life this morning, as if carrying some secret that only nature could understand -- and she wasn't privvy to. A sudden wash of joy raised a smile in her, excited at the mystery of so beautiful a secret.

She had been raised most of her life in the lush green that was the Pacific West Coast. Moving north into Canada had only intensified the dripping wet sensuality of a warm summer day.

The market at Granville Island had profferred some fresh salmon at a bargain price, along with some cider brewed in the Okanagan. As she had crossed the street to check the french bakery she'd been distracted by a beautiful young woman busking with her violin, and the music was still monopolizing her mind as she sipped her tea on the porch.

The busker had obviously been classically trained, but her outward appearance -- mohawk, nosering, tattoos -- would never have given away her priviledged upbringing.

Sally toyed with the idea of taking up an instrument, or maybe just piercing her nose, and settled for grabbing the scissors and cutting a couple inches off her hair. Unfortunately in that sudden burst of creativity her aim had missed, and her hair was now skewed at a weird angle that made her look like she was perpetually hanging her head to one side. Clinging desperately to the elation she'd been feeling only moments before, she ran inside to get a mirror and right her wrongs.

She steeled herself from cutting though, somehow she liked this new off-kilter look -- especially after a life that had been measured by control. The morning's joy crept back as she started swaggering back and forth, tossing the half of her hair that was still long enough to toss and making sexy faces at the mirror.

It was then that her roommate walked in. Jane's face contorted into her "what an idiot you are" look, as she spat out: " So you think that's gonna attract some Tom, Dick or Harry?"

She was struck dumb by the venom (she didn't know where it came from, she never knew where it came from) but Jane's tourretic bouts of hate were normal.

Today was the last straw: Sally took action with the scissors, deftly crossing the room and clipping Jane's locks to her scalp in one motion .