Work, work, work, work, work, work.
You know the ones, “The prah-pesser sez. . .”
Try to use the words from their submissions to drown out the plans being made by the couple in the other room.
That used to be us. We used to plan things and go places. Not that we had much money to do it. I’m envious of their love and their money. Two things I feel more and more without.
Invite myself along to dinner so I won’t feel lonely.
But on the bright side, a pair of my skinny jeans fits again.