regretfully spontaneous

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I roll over in bed as the sun peaks through my busted blinds. Or, at least I think it’s the sun. It’s hard to tell; the lights in the parking lot never come on at the right time. I stare at the ceiling fan, which is missing one blade. I’m bathing in darkness, sheets, and disappointment when I hear rustling coming from the newspaper piles in the corner. I think it might be my cat, which I haven’t seen in three days. And then I remember why my life is ruined.

I didn’t really mean to do it, but I did. So now, as I watch my cat wade through a foot of garbage on the bedroom floor, I am left to think about the deed I have done, the crime I have committed. Let me just say right now that if I were ever to relive last night, which I should have done differently, I would have worn gym shoes. Four inch stilettos aren’t good for running. I wish I would have made better decisions though. I can only imagine what my mother would say. I shouldn’t have stolen the car. I shouldn’t have. It was nice and all, but wrecking it and getting caught cost me my job. I just wish I would have known it was my boss’s car. Next time I decide to do something “wild and spontaneous,” I’ll buy a candy bar.





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