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trust love. [Nov. 25th, 2005|12:31 pm]
[music |ian van dahl ::: will i ever love you again]

She awoke to the sound of her phone ringing.
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She awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. <m.i.a. Bucky Dun Gun plays>
Hello? She answers.
Hey, it's Jay, is the reply. How do you spell wet? Like wet floor?
W-E-T, she replies.
W-E-T? he asks.
Cool, that's it, he laughs.
K, she laughs, see ya manana.
Tomorrow when i get back, she smiles.
K bye.
She looks at the clock which reads 11:52am. It's the day after Thanksgiving. The headphones she feel asleep with are still in her ears amazingly enough to her. The Rio Karma is turned off (saving the batteries for her trip home) and she looks to see her computer lying next to her. First thing, she opens to the screen to see her last thoughts on the screen.
Fuck, she thinks and instantly her morning is filled with all last nights regrets.

The plane flies over the coast line. She sees the familiar surroundings of California-- her California. The houses tucked away into the hillsides all white and terra and some futher apart than the suburban ones that are altogether too close. There's the occassional pool you see (more than you would expect but still few enough to notice them) and the line of ants that are cars on the freeway. The Ralph's and Von's (no Cala Foods here) and the malls... and the blue blue water reflecting the beautiful blue skies above. Home, sweet home...

And this is your captain speaking to let you know that we've landed in San Diego. The temperature is a cool 64 degrees, the time is 11:21am and we the crew of Southwestern Airlines wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy your stay.

She exits the plane and walks through the airport feeling peaceful inside. Home, she keeps thinking, God it's soo good to be back. The first concession stand she seeks is the Starbucks. I missed you baby, she walks through the doors to order- walking past a display of San Diego Starbucks mugs (one of which she proudly displays in her room).
Ken I hep you? is the reply of the Filipina worker behind the counter.
Uh... she pauses for a moment, Iced Vanilla Latte.
Wut siz?
Big. she laughs. (who ever knows the difference between grande and venti?)
Wut kin uf melk?
Soy, whole...
Soy... and this rice krispies treat.
(fuck!) She hands the woman a $10.
Have good day.
She walks to the pick-up counter. It's not going to be that good she knows the airport Starbucks is terrible and it cost way more money than she has to spend but she doesn't care this time. It's Starbucks and Home and feeling like its hers again that matters. You can't put a price on familiarity and content.
Banilla Latte Soy. the Filipino man pushes the drink at her.
Thanks. she walks through the doors toward the exit and breathes a sigh of relief.