2007 singles

haphazardly into friendship with Allison on the first day of high school. She had been walking confidently in the direction of her next class. Shortly finding herself at the main office, she quickly realized she was completely lost. Unable to recognize a single face in the flocks of students flapping past down the corridor, and left with no other option, she summoned the courage to ask someone for help. Noticing another four-eyed girl, inconvenienced as she was with big stupid glasses on her face, Phoebe

Alexander Roman Professor Lunderberg Senior Seminar Essay 10/14/2015 My Simple Dreams My name is Alexander Roman. My future is now composed of dreams that I have created throughout the years since I was young. At eight years old, I already had planned out my future: at twenty two, I would have already been working as a paleontologist, excavating skeletons of dinosaurs, in Africa, and then I would have become the first person ever riding a hover board down the hill in front of my house in Puerto Rico

always doing things together, seemingly living irresponsibly. We, now, are (mostly) the latter. Our moment came along 7 years ago this month. This time of year always brings back the memories, although the pain diminishes each time. It was November 2, 2007, a day that is seared forever, irrevocably in our minds. It started out as a typical evening. Our oldest son, Brandon, had a friend over. Sara was having a sleepover with two of her friends. Our oldest daughter, Heather, was working at the local pizza

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You walk down the staircase hearing the creak of the wood as your foot hits each stair. You stop, waiting, thinking that you will hear a door bust open, a car door slam but silence, not a single soul moves. You want to know how your life will change when you walk through that door, who will hate you or love you, yet you can’t time travel, you can’t do much in fact, but the one thing you can do is change the way a page of your life will be engraved into your story... Two Days Earlier: “Becca

The clackety clack sound of horse hooves and a jingling harness drew Allie’s attention to the street below; she watches as Eli alights from the Harris family carriage and tells the driver, George, to pick him up in two hours. Always courteous and a proper Southern gentleman, Eli never stayed longer than two hours, which was the appropriate amount of time allowed for visiting with friends and family, otherwise, he said, you might wear out your welcome. It took several minutes before Eli reached the

One of the best things about the location of my office building was its proximity to Food Alley. It’s a quaint little street where all the restaurants, mostly catering to a lunch crowd were on. With it only being a few blocks away, there was no need to use transportation, but when it rained, the subway across the street from my building to the center of Food Alley is available. With it being a nice sunny morning, and there was no rush. I let my mind drift with my stupidity with asking Sasha out where

One more hour left. It was easy to become bored on a plane, especially when you’re stuck on it for Twelve hours, and after those twelve hours, I would be finding myself in Oregon, a long way from home. Well, my old one. It occurred to me that being a long way from home quickly builds up on you, knowing that wherever you go you’re known as an outsider, a twelve hour freezing cold oceans long way outsider. Knowing that the cold weathers of England would be replaced with the scorching hot weathers of

In the morning, I woke up to a completely silent room. With a groan, I rolled over in my bed, opening my eyes to see Vic 's bed empty. He wasn 't in the dorm, so that told he must 've went out to do something before class. Slowly, I got out of bed and got dressed in some of the clothes that I brought along with me. Once I was dressed, I made my way out of the room and down the stairs. Almost everyone was crowded in one spot; The kitchen. I knew this was going to happen. With an annoyed huff, I shoved

I was 5 years old when I had one of my first memories of talking with my grandfather, Poppy. He and I were sitting on the front porch of his 61-year-old suburban Kansas home, simply taking in the cool summer evening. No words were spoken and a calm air surrounded us. I remember looking out, beyond the neighboring houses, and being amazed at the scenery. The slowly sinking sun set the sky ablaze, making it seem as though the mixture of pale, white clouds and vibrant oranges were a painting on a canvas