Time is an Illusion

Lunchtime doubly so.

Okay. I am officially canceling the whole stupid karaoke thing. Forget it.

Alright, now time for Ali's book whatever.

Ali seemed out of place among Sam's friends (I'm writing it third-person). She was mistakenly considered a drama queen by a small number of those who did not know her well enough, but people who knew her knew otherwise. It is implied by "drama queen" that the person exaggerates her drama. Ali was unique in this respect: she informed others of the drama in her life, but didn't exaggerate it. The drama was real.

Her hair was nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it was fairly common for a girl of her age. A simple brown cut off at her shoulders. Her eyes were darker than her hair, but not depressingly so. Ali's eyes had the unusual tendency to perfectly match her mood. When she was sad they seemed to darken, but when she was happier they seemed to light up. Centered between her eyes was the bridge of her nose. From this point to her chin her face seemed slightly elongated, as if someone had stretched it a tiny bit.

Ali's patience for life was like a balloon. If life was bugging her, she would let out air in the form of an angry blog post or an instant message rant. In this manner she had an infinite patience for crap life could give her, as long as it came in small doses. Sam knew of no time when she had, so to speak, "popped".

But he was sure he didn't want to be around when that happened.

Well that's that.

Ah I tire. Good night, my friends.

Oh the title is Douglas Adams.