Saturday, November 17
Let it comfort you like a best friend would, he told himself. Let the song put its arm over your shoulder and walk you home.
The tortoise and the hare met for coffee. They each casually mentioned their recent successes, secretly hoping to appear better than the other. As they walked their separate ways home it hit them at the same time: There never was a race. There is no destination. There is no winner.
the three little pigs only saw each other for holidays now and conversation was always a little awkward. then, usually after a few drinks, one would say, “remember that time with the wolf?” and they’d spend hours telling all the details of the story and laughing and feeling young again.
laughed at 12:36:00 AM