"(Name)!" The girl suddenly slid out from her chair and took a large step to the left. Behind her, she heard a crash as someone fell from the right over her seat. She looked down at the brown haired guy that was now holding his chin that he hit when he fell. The guy looked up at her with big eyes filled with tears. "(Name)," he whined, "why did you move?"
"Because you were about to hug me, Keigo." You said calmly. "Now can you stand up so I can sit back down?"
Keigo sobbed. "Why are you and Ichigo so mean to me?!" You felt your cheeks get a bit red at the mention of the orange haired teen.
"Maybe that's because you're always trying to attack them." A bla
Lunch Time: The Defining
Dinner of the Day
Our breakfasts and our dinners tend to be exercises in deliberate sameness; a tested and trusted breakfast to get us out the door, our dinners the decompression period to settle after the rigors of another day done.
But lunches have always been different: lunch at home, the brown bag school lunch, the working man’s noon-ish break in the ramshackle break-room and the white-collar “working” lunch in a
"Good morning, Miles," she cooed in my ear. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. She giggled. I loved to snuggle her in the morning.
"Good morning, Tia," I replied with a yawn.
"Do you know what time it is, Miles?" she asked me. I could tell she was excited about something.
"No," I replied sleepily, rolling over. "What time is it?"
"Breakfast time," she said with a grin. "C'mon, Miles! Get up!" I knew she must have something planned.
I groaned as I slid my feet off the edge of the bed and sat up.