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It read "3:56" just as my computer made that shutdown noise. Perfect. I'd worked through lunch just to achieve this. I pulled on my jacket, keeping the phone in one hand and texted while one of my fellow escapees pressed the down button. "You home?" I sent, my phone chirped as it sent the message and the elevator binged its arrival.I'd have to wait for the reply -- the elevator blocked my service. But I could wait, I was in an awesome mood, because it was a Thursday. Thursdays used to suck -- they were the worst day of the week; they're near the end of a tiring workweek, and you still have to drag your ass out of bed one more time. But now, though, Thursdays are the best weekday ever. Why? The simple answer: Girl Scouts.My phone didn't beep in response until I sat on the bus. I tapped the face, and brought up the message. "Just got home," my wife wrote. "You?" She'd been on the road home when she got the text, but hadn't responded. She might put on makeup at a stoplight, but she. A cold wind started to whirl around his camp, forcing him inside his makeshift hut. Arthur walked over to his bed and slowly laid down. He looked at the ceiling with his mind focused on the girl as the wind howled outside. Images of him caressing her body began to form in his mind. He wanted to brush her long, blonde hair with his fingers, gaze deeply into her eyes as she lay on top of him naked. His eyes started to close with the images repeating. The next morning, he awoke to the sound of an eagle screeching in the distance. Immediately, his mind flicked back to the girl as he walked out of his hut. He took a deep breath as he moved to his deckchair. Hours went by as he stared blankly at the horizon. He then noticed a small figure begin to immerge on it. His heart started to pound as she came back, looking for more supplies. Arthur began to mumble to himself as she came closer to the ruins and more importantly, his camp. He watched as she walked to the ruined convenient store. He.
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