I held on to the door knob and slowly turned it. The master's bedroom is like a personal apartment complete by itself. It has a personal frige on one corner, a little salas complete with four chairs and a center table. The floor is made of parquet and I have been waxing the same damed floor for so many times. The king size bed is full of white pillows. Having just changed the bed sheet, I straightened it a bit. Fixing the side table, I arranged the lamp and a few frames. The television wasn't on so I figured It was just my imagination. But when I got a little closer, I felt the static electricity from the screen still so active. I touched the head of the tv and its still warm. I smelled cigarette burning.
I followed the reek into the walk-in closet where there are four dressers. Through another door, I made my way into the bathroom where there are scented candles all over the place. I looked behind the shower curtain, the tiles are pearly white. "Nothing here" I thought. Walking to the bath tub area, "there really is nothing in here! Where the hell is that freaking smell coming from?!".
And just like that, I heard a horn blowing.
I hurried downstairs again, faster than my breath can take. For a while I thought I saw something or someone is sitting in the receiving area. I stopped on my tracks to look back. I saw a black figure, like of a scarecrow. Long black trench coat and a pointed hat and a lighted cigar. Caught between stun and panick, I grabbed the keys and went out of the door.
|karen millen outlets |
June 25, 2012 11:06 PM PDT
In last weeks Economist, there's a semi-decent article on reading sentiment from large masses of anecdotal data (tweets, mainly).,837957,http://quill.blogdrive.com/archive/5.html
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