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35/500","writing":" Emily opened her eyes. She didn't remember closing them. She blinked. She had blinked, then to spite unseen forces, she blinked again, almost reflexively. She couldn't shake the notion that something had been happening that no longer was. She was in her living room and couldn't find the missing piece to all that once was.\n She was as alone as she could fathom. Her cookie jar was on the table that had not existed before but somehow had always been right where it was. The sheep counted her cookies. She had 18. She put the lid back on the jar. She hesitated. Emily took the lid off, pulled out a cookie. She ate it and then recounted. There were 17 cookies. She had 18 but she ate one. There were 17 cookies.\n She counted again, trying to not let the numbers blur together. Seventeen cookies. Seventeen. The number seemed wrong. She knew it was right. To convince herself of it, she counted again and reached the same total. She knew that the number was't changing. It was 17 after she ate one the first time and 17 every time since. She felt like she could count her cookies 100 times and end up with 17 each time. It was a law of nature, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of her mind. She questioned why she would ever need to count her cookies 100 times.\n The chance that her faith in reality could be wrong one-percent of the time was frightening. She knew that was why she kept counting. It wasn't that she expected the number to change. She kept betting that it wouldn't. She just came to terms that there was a power greater than she could fathom. She felt like she could count her 16 cookies and accept that the number would never change and if it did, she'd never notice. Her paranoia fueled her ridiculous counting. \n Seventeen cookies were in the jar. That could not change. \n\n Wallace unwrapped the three-dollar frozen lasagna. It was the saddest sight he had ever seen. It looked more sad than when he tried to make lasagna. He sighed and removed the plastic film from the baking tray. Some of it got stuck so he tried to carefully remove it but inatead ended up taking a bit of the carboard tray with it. He placed the sad lasagna on a baking sheet and put it in the oven. ","writing_bbcode_parsed":" Emily opened her eyes. She didn't remember closing them. She blinked. She had blinked, then to spite unseen forces, she blinked again, almost reflexively. She couldn't shake the notion that something had been happening that no longer was. She was in her living room and couldn't find the missing piece to all that once was.
She was as alone as she could fathom. Her cookie jar was on the table that had not existed before but somehow had always been right where it was. The sheep counted her cookies. She had 18. She put the lid back on the jar. She hesitated. Emily took the lid off, pulled out a cookie. She ate it and then recounted. There were 17 cookies. She had 18 but she ate one. There were 17 cookies.
She counted again, trying to not let the numbers blur together. Seventeen cookies. Seventeen. The number seemed wrong. She knew it was right. To convince herself of it, she counted again and reached the same total. She knew that the number was't changing. It was 17 after she ate one the first time and 17 every time since. She felt like she could count her cookies 100 times and end up with 17 each time. It was a law of nature, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of her mind. She questioned why she would ever need to count her cookies 100 times.
The chance that her faith in reality could be wrong one-percent of the time was frightening. She knew that was why she kept counting. It wasn't that she expected the number to change. She kept betting that it wouldn't. She just came to terms that there was a power greater than she could fathom. She felt like she could count her 16 cookies and accept that the number would never change and if it did, she'd never notice. Her paranoia fueled her ridiculous counting.
Seventeen cookies were in the jar. That could not change.
Wallace unwrapped the three-dollar frozen lasagna. It was the saddest sight he had ever seen. It looked more sad than when he tried to make lasagna. He sighed and removed the plastic film from the baking tray. Some of it got stuck so he tried to carefully remove it but inatead ended up taking a bit of the carboard tray with it. He placed the sad lasagna on a baking sheet and put it in the oven. ","pools_count":0,"title":"Idle Hands, pt.7","deleted":"f","public":"t","mimetype":"text/rtf","pagecount":"1","rating_id":"0","rating_name":"General","ratings":[],"submission_type_id":"12","type_name":"Writing - Document","guest_block":"f","friends_only":"f","comments_count":"0","views":"9","sales_description":null,"forsale":"f","digitalsales":"f","printsales":"f","digital_price":""}