Sitting on a park bench, reading one of his favorite authors, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, an acquaintance that he hasn’t seen in ages. He remembered her name, but as far some of the particulars go, they just passed right by him. He finally looked up, and said hello, and she said I know you, but can’t remember where I’ve seen you before.
After a few moments of happy chat, she still couldn’t place him, and when she got home, to look him up on the internet. What she learned was that he was a high school teacher, never married, and no brothers and sisters.
With that info, she was contemplating to whether to call him, and hopefully meet up with him, or just call it a day, and move on.
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I write for the hell of it.
We’re all too alone in this world. Dial, i say.
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Sometime I wonder are better for it?
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It’s nice to be alone sometimes, but loneliness can kill you. Beautifully written.
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I agree, and thank you for the comment…
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Ya just never know what might happen…
Writing for the hell of it is a wonderful reason to write!
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Indeed it is, and will write whatever comes to mind…
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