I wrote and wrote until I got to 102.
"Leana, what're you doing?"
"Nothing. Tummy ache."
"..."
My headache was killing me but I don't want to be a 'wuss', so I shut up and wrote them numbers. Numbers that I hated so. It was all futile though. A 'wuss' I am. So, I went home and started listing again. Pitiful.
2 comments:
wuss
ingrate
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