He made it to the fifth tree, soaring through the damp air, a quarter of his eye catching suspended twigs, his mind on the hind, the previous supporting surface… As he latched onTo… (dizziness) was he stretching forth to another leap, or trying to settle into an… He still tried to force his way through an seemingly tough blanket… But he woke up.
… (whisks) Sam expended his energy, vehemently making a smooth miX out of his shake. He set the spoon on his mattress.
Traffic was hoT on the InterLube (TM), market women and young students making the bulk of commuters in the Lube. Meko shot straight at the Diner’s frontaGe; his files and folder on his right hand, a pack of pens on his left. He entered into the space, the chill of the airconditioning and the sifts of light perfume half-embracing the little hairs on his little nose shortly before he spotted his man.
The talk was brief, sTurDy and all manner of strenoUs. His client bent and the Cash was his. A mysterious affair.
His house was scattered looking; he had to make a
_Hi! I’m having a good-time here, are yuo?