Oftentimes, when Ed and I are in a coffee shop, he'll ask for an Orangina. The guy hates coffee. Or tea.
A day of work and only work. I look out my office window, hoping for…something.
I see her: a girl, (young woman really, but did you notice how, after a few years, you start referring to young women as “girls” again?), in orange, taking a break on Bascom Mall. Which in itself is very orange.
She’s eating an apple and talking on the phone, all at the same time.
All ensconsed in orange. Without the soda. Can't have it all.