Logan was speeding in his flashy red car. He whizzed past me and changed into my lane-- a clear sign of disrespect.
He was probably on his way to his favorite coffee dump. There, he'd write some nonsense about existentialism or whatever nonsense you learn when you get a degree in philosophy. The women loved it, though. He'd have many women who loved his flashy style and phony depth of character. What a slimeball! The poor female gender succumbing to his debauchery.
I'm certainly not jealous, however, even despite my ramblings. At least when we finally die, I'm right.
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99 Words is a pet project I started in 2011 when at college. The idea was that I didn't have time for writing, but still had passing fancies, visions, plot ideas, and the like. Instead of tossing them to the wayside, I came up with a plan to turn those notes into little chunkules of text, each 99 words long. This is section is still updated.