tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post5198652198652224639..comments2023-11-03T07:57:36.350+00:00Comments on Sarah's writing journal: Keeping Up - a 50 word storySarah Salwayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08254413682817411906noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-55025951830832112432009-05-13T20:48:00.000+01:002009-05-13T20:48:00.000+01:00Eleven and a half on the door. Because there was n...Eleven and a half on the door. Because there was no twelve. Only half a house where there had once been more. Just walls and windows now, and neighbours with no door. Like a planning blunder put right with a ruler and a rubber. Nowhere else to post the mail.Douglas Brutonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12625886640338360592noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-74954980419829094622009-05-13T11:32:00.000+01:002009-05-13T11:32:00.000+01:00At the door,he turns." I love you more each year,"...At the door,he turns." I love you more each year," he says on our 40th anniversary.<br />"Why do men eat with their mouth open and make those disgusting grunting noises. We haven't had sex for years. No chance either. I smile back. If men have teeth it's a bonus.leopoldnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-32871973653531181892009-05-13T10:20:00.000+01:002009-05-13T10:20:00.000+01:00The faceless panelled door is blue all over, excep...The faceless panelled door is blue all over, except the handle. Charlie Baker is as normal as anything on the outside. But you never get to look at his missus. She hides inside. The door is a second skin. Ask Mr Jones what he does. Says he's a panel beater.Kathrynhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03100413586341334127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-72528260108578373632009-05-13T08:13:00.000+01:002009-05-13T08:13:00.000+01:00Wonderful, Abha. I love how you turned the photo s...Wonderful, Abha. I love how you turned the photo so completely into your story!Sarah Salwayhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08254413682817411906noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-86237899267824135292009-05-13T06:55:00.000+01:002009-05-13T06:55:00.000+01:00It was when he kissed me.Eleven times,I have count...It was when he kissed me.Eleven times,I have counted since then,on my fingers,again and again. And a half too, I remember,before he pulled away,hearing those sirens in his head.He must see this door,walk in,and complete that kiss.Abha Iyengarhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17804103917796069764noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-50192995725107451722009-05-12T21:38:00.000+01:002009-05-12T21:38:00.000+01:00YES! I think it must be. You win clever blog reade...YES! I think it must be. You win clever blog reader of the day award. And I had to look Triskaidekaphobia up if anyone else is feeling stupid too, it's fear of the number thirteen.Sarah Salwayhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08254413682817411906noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959261.post-36477098252203172792009-05-12T21:16:00.000+01:002009-05-12T21:16:00.000+01:00Triskaidekaphobia?Triskaidekaphobia?Clarehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13411950678231892082noreply@blogger.com