Hours of OperationThe mindless clicks of the computer mouse seemed to grow even more irritating, an incessant woodpecker working away during the sleeping hours of the morning. Even the motion of starting a new game became as repetitious as moving one card onto another. One game blended into the other, never had a game of solitaire been so mind numbingly endless.The office around her, with its homey and quaint décor of pink potpourri filled pillows and excessive dollies, felt unnaturally still. Even the modern presence of the computer was unsuccessfully hidden underneath an elaborate crochet piece. Sitting just beyond the office door was an even more deserted sight of the shop itself. Its filled with baby cradles, teddy bears, rag dolls, and pastel wicker furniture- all of which is needlessly adorned with frill and lace in attempt to show some form of sweet affection. The shop seemed to have been frozen in a warm hue of the afternoon, left behind from the rapture.There had been no customers
Exercise -1- The one thing...Writing Exercise #1The one thing she couldnt say was his name. She had read it over and over, but the group of vowels shelved one after another gave no helpful or insightful clue as to how to pronounce itself. To make the matter worse and more difficult, she had relatives of his read it off. By the end of the exacerbating mantra she found that no matter the amount of couching or effort on her part could make her lips, or tongue, or voice shape the same sounds she heard. She was stuck of a hopeless pit of and unintentionally forbidden word.Are you sure he doesnt have a nickname? Something shorter, something less impractical? she asked.No, weve never had a need to call him anything different. Her fiancé explained. He rolled out the extensive name again.She slouched back into the couch. I dont think your father is going to take to me well.