Pixipow8

“Babes, I need you to write me a book.” This was an odd request from my grandpa. He always joked about how I was going to grow up to be a writer/lawyer and later on become a Fox News analyst, but this was a rare moment of sincerity from him. He was always overestimating my abilities. When he heard me sing for the first time with my guitar he insisted I audition for American Idol. They say love is blind. I believe that it is deaf as well. I hid my perplexity and looked at my grandpa. His serious blue eyes were identical to mine. I could see a lot of myself in his face; he was just much older than me. I tried to remember the days wh

     Ariel carelessly flipped her custom made heels off of her feet. The sound of them bouncing across the lawn sparked satisfaction within her. She hoped they were scuffed and bruised. Eric had bought her them the weeke before, for the ball.     "Of course he'd buy me something shiny to appease me," Ariel thought bitterly. She wept over the shoes she had treasured just mere hours earlier. "I should've realized it sooner. He always showers me with gifts when he feels guilty. Why does he think he can ease his conscience and buy my affection with a stupid pair of shoes? It's like he doesn't even know me."     Ariel had lost herself in daydre