![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sep. 26th, 2003
Mild Panic in the Morning
Sep. 26th, 2003 11:55 amThis morning, I took my mom to Waterloo Station and helped her buy a ticket to Portsmouth Harbour. She is going there to visit an old friend (Rita) from South Africa.
Silke just called. Rita has seen two trains come in... and no signs of my mom! She was supposed to have arrived an hour ago.
Ed.Turns out mom took the ferry to the island (of Wight) -- she'd forgotten that she'd made plans to meet her friend before taking the ferry. Everything is fine.
Silke just called. Rita has seen two trains come in... and no signs of my mom! She was supposed to have arrived an hour ago.
Ed.Turns out mom took the ferry to the island (of Wight) -- she'd forgotten that she'd made plans to meet her friend before taking the ferry. Everything is fine.
Move with you, move against you. Sarah thinks.
Put your hands on me, put them on me. Adrien thinks.
The storm lies outside. They hide in the photo booth, like children from a fairy tale escaping the monsters that wish to capture them. The photo booth is tiny, with its round red seat that you can spin up or down, and white walls made of plastic. Someone has scrawled above the camera's dark window Avril was here. Sarah sits on Adrien's lap. They stare at the black windowpane, the camera's cover. At any moment a flashlight could flood their hideaway, capture Adrien's hands stroking Sarah's hair; bursts of light filling his face so she may see better where her lips must go. They are not in America, but they can hear Frank Sinatra played in the deserted shopping arcade.
( Read more... )
Put your hands on me, put them on me. Adrien thinks.
The storm lies outside. They hide in the photo booth, like children from a fairy tale escaping the monsters that wish to capture them. The photo booth is tiny, with its round red seat that you can spin up or down, and white walls made of plastic. Someone has scrawled above the camera's dark window Avril was here. Sarah sits on Adrien's lap. They stare at the black windowpane, the camera's cover. At any moment a flashlight could flood their hideaway, capture Adrien's hands stroking Sarah's hair; bursts of light filling his face so she may see better where her lips must go. They are not in America, but they can hear Frank Sinatra played in the deserted shopping arcade.
( Read more... )
(no subject)
Sep. 26th, 2003 04:56 pmI did jackshit today. Literally. I wrote a story (the previous post). I went to the gym (and saw a Tom Cruise look-a-like neeked). I had a Coronation Chicken baguette and a banana for lunch. I'm eating an apple right now. I drank a lot of water. I peed a lot. I got nothing out of the mad secretary. I dealt with my mom's minor disappearance. I made plans with Karla to meet her and Kevin after work for dinner and drinks. I read www.ljdrama.org for an hour (thanks ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
4q!) I checked hotmail 100 times. I switched from Attack of the 80s radio to BBC6. I briefly spoke to a lecturer about having dinner together next week. I taught someone how to use the photocopier machine (the only work I've done today!)
man...
I'm so glad the weekend has arrived.
4q!) I checked hotmail 100 times. I switched from Attack of the 80s radio to BBC6. I briefly spoke to a lecturer about having dinner together next week. I taught someone how to use the photocopier machine (the only work I've done today!)man...
I'm so glad the weekend has arrived.