“We had put almost all of our possessions in storage, which was a metaphor for being twenty, as were so many things.” ― Lorrie Moore
You’re already 25 and you’re still a mess when it comes to love.
My co-worker says to me 15 minute past the good morning hour. The time of the day when you want to sip slowly on a cup of Joe, read the morning headlines, and prepare yourself for the stresses of tackling your to-do list. But instead, she’s bringing my dating life to its pimple infested white head. You know that right?
Have you been speaking with my mother? I pop my head over the cubicle wall that divides our area in chunks, that limits the amount of human contact we can experience throughout the day. Is that a bad thing?
No, I like that actually, her 22-year-old voice crumbles in laughter between sips from her ice tea in a cup the size of my forearm. It makes me feel better about myself.