Thursday, January 7, 2010
biscuit and gracie
On the table next to her, piles of assorted mail leaned in precarious angles, threatening to come down like a demolition project at the slightest provocation. Already on the floor were one or two envelopes that had slipped free from the melee and were waiting to be accidentally kicked under the sofa where they would stay until such a time as the occupant moved to new digs. People don't live like this, she thought, but immediately cleared that thought from her head. Becoming friends with Gracie Lawn would require her to suspend her own reality.