happy feet happy times

soup

So,
6pm on a Sunday night sitting on the train as it clatters me back home.  The guy sitting next to me smells like soup but not just mildly... like really smells like soup, like hot and delicious chicken noodle soup.  Yet no soup in sight.  All I can think is how hungry it is making me and how I feel like soup.  Really, there has to be something wrong with me.

all washed up

It's a shame *sigh*

He hailed a cab for me and apathetically opened the door.
"It's a shame you don't feel the same way about me" he said as he brushed my cheek goodbye with his lips.  "I'm crazy about you." 
I blushed, smiled and gently pulled the door of the cab closed and the driver pulled away from the curb smoothly.
Ahhh the security and calm of solitude!  A beautifully poetic placid goodbye *sigh*