On Aisle Nine!
I left the office at about two o’clock, sadly recognizing the space I called my preferred home had its days numbered. Psychologically drained for my ruthless triggered bluntness toward Jasen but I did not buckle and walked out of my office with my head-up. If that wasn’t enough, I’d done all this shopping, yet it had slipped my mind to pick up a few essentials for home, I battled with myself whether to go to a local pharmacy for toiletries or shop for fresh fruit and veggies from the grocers. Damn it! I’m doomed to the all-you-can-buy commerce pit in the steadfast, crowded, bumper-to-bumper cart-mart.
“Hi, Bradley honey. I’m glad you called.” “Hello, sugar. I actually called to leave you a quote . . . a
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It’s the least I can do, ma’am.” After ten seconds of heaving breaths among us, I responded, “Yes, you were right. Phone calls can lead us into desperation. I nearly had a clash of the fenders with the car pulling out of its parking space. Honey, I’m calling you in about an hour when I get home.” “Sugar-lips, I’ll be waiting.” “If I’m not back in two hours, come and bail me out because this place doesn’t have a dull moment of angry shoppers. Massive retail conveys furious people.” His laugher was the icing, “The city girl who evokes solitude? I am bringing you home! I’ll break you in to the country life and small shops, and I will show you the ropes. Now go on; be patient, and solely imagine me inhaling those panties while you are still wearing them. Keep her wet for me. I’ll talk to you later.” “Sure, Mr. Callahan, you’ll show me the ropes. Honey, what was the quote you were going to leave me with?” “We do not believe in ourselves until someone else reveals that deep inside of us something is valuable, worth listening to,