Trying to escape the supermarket on a Sunday night, my way is blocked by a floppy-headed man (is his head too heavy?) talking to an elderly woman with the tiny-eyed face of a Russian doll about his lack of plans for the holidays. 906 more words
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The express lanes on Interstate 66 near DC, previously reserved for vehicles carrying two or more people, opened up to solo travelers.
I was driving back home from my parents’ place on Saturday after having dropped Brother One over there. His plane had arrived safely from Thailand a few hours earlier and we had spent a few hours catching up, before he disappeared off to bed to catch up on the sleep that his overnight flight had robbed him of. 1,151 more words