Two strangers in an elevator both said, 'Well, here we go.'
We were going up three floors, but the emotional tone suggested a space launch.
I typed a thoughtful response to the group chat, then watched six people discuss something else entirely for forty minutes.
After fourteen minutes of parallel parking, I finally got the car into the space.
My brother and I settled the last-cookie dispute fairly: one cuts, the other chooses.
The fancy restaurant served me one scallop on a plate the size of a hubcap, so I felt bad for it and asked for a second to keep it company.
My five-year-old is running for family president. Her platform is dessert first and optional bedtime.
I finally opened my old laptop to clean it up and found 4,000 screenshots, 37 tabs of recipes, and one folder named 'Misc Final FINAL.'
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