I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Literally I would read thousands of words of this.
Sometimes I feel like I might finally be content with the way I look, and then I look in the mirror and it’s like
I no longer wish to be loved childishly. I want to be loved with the strength and charm of maturity. I don’t want to be smothered by the fear of jealousy and insecurities. I don’t want a relationship based solely upon shutting the world out and locking each other in. I want to be somewhere where I can breathe. Where, even in the midst of a million people with a million heartbeats surrounding me, I can still know the sound or even play the tune, or nod my head to the rhythm of the one I call “home.” I want to call you home.
Unpleasant customers who complain and say they’d rather go somewhere else.