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Room 317, Thursday Evening
Dec. 28th, 2006 08:11 pmZ lounged on her bed, scribbling in a notebook, then ripping out what she'd written, balling it up, and tossing it in the general direction of the wastebasket. Balls of crumpled paper littered the floor.
Dear Jack
Jack
( Hey, moron, )
That letter joined its brothers crumpled on the floor, and Z flopped back onto her bed with her SPD handbook.
((Door is closed, but post is open!))
( Hey, moron, )
That letter joined its brothers crumpled on the floor, and Z flopped back onto her bed with her SPD handbook.
((Door is closed, but post is open!))
