"The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master- something that at times strangely wills and works for itself."
Charlotte Bronte

Monday, September 3, 2012

Complete the story...

The longest day of my life began tardily. I woke up late, took too long in the shower, and ended up having to enjoy my breakfast in the passenger seat of my mom's minivan at 7:17 that Wednesday morning.

I usually got a ride to school with my best friend, Ben Starling, but Ben had gone to school on time, making him useless to me. "On time" for us was thirty minutes before school actually started, because the half hour before the first bell was the highlight of our social calendars: standing outside the side door that led into the school and just talking.

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