It is eight forty-two at night. The house is quiet. There is a spool of leather lace on the desk in front of me; I feel the need to pick at the sticker on the spool and pick it up.

Googly eyes spill out in a small clatter.

I break into uproarious laughter.

Oh dear.
» middaymoon on 2008-12-08 09:01:24

DId you change your song on autoplay?
» Nuttz on 2008-12-08 11:20:24

There were googly eyes in your spool?
» randomjunk on 2008-12-09 05:21:10

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