She strived for perfection. She loved setting herself tasks, sometimes impossible ones, to prove to her heart that underneath every seemingly ugly thing there was something beautiful inside.

Always a chancer, always lucky, he'd fall into a river and come out dry, with fish in his pockets.

And nobody had told them that they were short on time.

I write human stories. I write about people. Not as a product of their environment. But from the stance that everybody is made of the same thing.

"What is it with people these days?" he hisses... "In my day, something just was. None of this analysis a hundred times over. None of these college courses with people graduating with degrees in Whys and Hows and Becauses. Sometimes, love, you just need to forget all of those words and enroll in a little lesson called 'Thank You.'"

We had come here to have a break from thoughts and the hard work that came with the constant interaction with idiots. Or at least people we considered idiots because they were not mind readers and we had to, patiently, use polite words to explain things that we were thinking when really inside we were fighting the urge to take their heads in our hands and softly and repeatedly thud their foreheads off the wall.

Stop and take your time to notice things and make those things you notice matter.