A faded hope matches the mood of a dull morning commute.
The second weekend of February. Clothed in red and white, it is a pretender. It claims to be the herald of romance, but it is not. It is, instead, the harbinger of emotional torture.
Shut down [Le Sueur]
Sheltering at home from the storm, I think back to the night before.
Gag reflex [Le Sueur]
The weekend begins with an unpleasant task, an overdue part of the regular chores.
On winding paths we tread [Le Sueur]
Deceived by the passage of time, we sometimes think that life is a straight road between past and future. It is not. Nor should it be.
Flashback: Romance 404 [Le Sueur]
Getting ready for a day at work, thinking back to a woman, one from a few months back.
Rattle and shake [Le Sueur]
Here we go, again. Time to see what surprises are in store. Time to pick up the dice and give them a shake.