Yesterday Was A Closed Book, Tomorrow, However,

We Had Come Here To Have A Break From Thoughts And The Hard Work That Came With The Constant Interaction With Idiots. Or At Least People We Considered Idiots Because They Were Not Mind Readers And We Had To, Patiently, Use Polite Words To Explain Things That We Were Thinking When Really Inside We Were Fighting The Urge To Take Their Heads In Our Hands And Softly And Repeatedly Thud Their Foreheads Off The Wall.

But Even In Her Laughter There Was Something Missing. She Never Seemed To Be Truly Happy; She Just Seemed To Be Passing Time While She Waited For Something Else. She Was Tired Of Just Existing; She Wanted To Live.

We Each Have Our Hiding Places And We Each Put Up With The Little Quirks Of The People We Love.

Age Is Just A Number, Not A State Of Mind Or A Reason For Any Type Of Particular Behaviour.

Sometimes Wrong Numbers Are The Right Numbers