#himboceo

      “trust me    --    if you actually care about your education, you should not listen to    joey donner    --    he’s an idiot.”

". . . why would you make me hear that with my own two earba-- earholes?" was she really about to say 'ear balls'? perhaps. is she an idiot? absolutely.

"jesus christ--" she's so tired. she loves her friends, really, but with the fact that the four of them likely share the same braincell 90% of the time, it's a wonder how any of them get things done at all. ". . . brock. honey. i love you, but please-- please, just use a goddamn napkin, or something."

      “although i'm not making plans    --    i hope that you'll understand there's a reason why.”

      lips spread into a wild smile as he enters the room.  always with such flare.  her hand raises, palm up for the crunch bar that hangs between his fingers.    (  he always knows her favorites.  )    however, the smile quickly drops as he completes his sentence.  eyebrows furrow as arms come to cross against her chest, lips pulling into a small pout.      “is this because i forgot to kiss you before i left for work ?”

      his loud voice causes her to jump.  scissors falling from the counter, as her eyes find him.  eyebrows furrow as she takes in his disgruntled appearance.      “are you insinuating i sent them after you, or something ?”

      --      “how many times did i tell you  :  you don’t need this many bags for a camping trip, babe.    you packed    way    too much.”

she’s really dug herself a whole here.  she should have started grading these essays last night    --    but what was she expected to do    [  …  ]    not go see shakespeare in the park  ?    so, she’s got her oldies playlist playing    --    perhaps a bit too loud for a high school classroom    --    and she’s three essays deep so far, when she hears her door open.    “i’m not having study hall today,”    slips past her lips without a glance up.  red pen sits softly on her bottom lip, before she’s underlining a student’s words.  once she’s finished her work, she offers a glance towards the presence in the room, her free hand slipping her glass off her nose and onto her head.    “oh  !    --    i’m sorry, i didn’t    --    hi, can i help you  ?”