Nights are annihilated. Days are just killed.

The record that sat in the corner of the pink bedroom was stuck in a groove. "C-c-c-c-c-c-craz--z-z-z-y Little Th-th-th-thing called L-l-l-l-ove." It was her favorite song, so she ran over the lifted the needle and blew the dust off the vinyl with a soft push of her breath. She had a soft spot for vinyl like she did for black eyeliner. So when the record was back in play she sat down at her vanity and pulled her lids taut and lined her lids without fail. Like a 60's bop girl, she got up and shimmied over to the open closet to find the evening's ensemble. She was partial to the slim waisted Levi's that hugged in all the right places and the black t-shirt that she became her favorite. Her outfit reminded her of Darin which made her look down at her plastic star ring and made her smile. She buckled her belt in place and took a final look--she was satisfied.



Tonight was just like ever other. Nights are annihilated. Days are just killed.