1. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident.

It seemed to be
a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

2. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over

the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

3. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

4. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

5. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!
 6. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its
cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

7. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

8. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

9. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

10. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
 river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

11. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

12. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

13. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

14. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.
 15.I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random
paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

16.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

17. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

18. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

19. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.
 20. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

21. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

22. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

23. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

24. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
 dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

25.I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

26.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

27. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

28. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.
 29. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

30. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

31. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

32. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

33. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.
 34. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

35. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

36.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

37. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

38. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
 feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

39. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

40. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

41. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

42. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

43. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
 reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

44. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

45. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

46.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

47. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

48. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
 from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

49. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

50. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

51. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

52. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.
53. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

54. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

55. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

56.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

57. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.
58. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

59. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

60. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

61. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

62. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
 than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

63. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

64. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

65. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

66.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

67. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
 was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

68. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

69. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

70. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

71. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.
72. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

73. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

74. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

75. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

76.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.
77. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

78. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

79. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

80. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.

81. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be

a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
 matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

82. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

83. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

84. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

85. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!
 The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its
86.
cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

87. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

88. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

89. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

90. They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The
river was green. The river likely had a different official name,
but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green
river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green
river was a fluorescent pink.
91. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be
a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more like a
week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble
comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping the
matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

92. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating over
the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

93. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of
owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a
reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours
caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all
too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer
to it.

94. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this
was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

95. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!
 96.The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its
cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

97. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick
and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She
was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by
reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory
subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

98. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the day she
was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be the same
from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to her, it
was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a burden or
something that she needed to be concerned about and defend.
She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed, placed her
feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper, and took the
first step of the first day of her new life.

99. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years.
The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it.
How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or
more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the
chair now.

100. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
 green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

101. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

102. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

103.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

104. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.
105. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random
paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

106. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

107. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

108. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

109. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.
 110. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

111. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

112. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

113.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

114. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
 dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

115. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

116. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

117. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

118. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.
 119. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

120. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

121. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

122. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

123.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.
 124. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

125. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

126. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

127. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

128. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
 placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

129. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

130. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

131. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

132. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

133.
dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
 become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

134. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

135. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

136. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

137. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

138. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
 the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

139. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

140. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

141. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

142. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.
 143. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had
dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

144. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

145. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

146. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

147. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.
 148. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

149. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

150. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

151. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

152. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
 than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

153. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had
dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

154. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

155. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

156. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

157. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
 She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

158. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

159. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

160. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

161. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.
162. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating
over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

163.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

164. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

165. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

166. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.
167. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

168. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

169. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

170. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

171. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
 the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

172. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

173. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had
dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

174. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

175. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!
176. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its
cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

177. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

178. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

179. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

180. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.
181. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed
to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

182. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

183.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

184. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

185. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!
186. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its
cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

187. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

188. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

189. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

190. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
 green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

191. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

192. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

193.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

194. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.
195. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random
paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

196. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

197. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

198. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

199. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.
 200. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

201. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

202. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

203.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

204. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
 dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

205. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

206. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

207. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

208. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.
 209. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

210. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

211. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

212. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

213.The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.
 214. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

215. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

216. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

217. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

218. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
 placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

219. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

220. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.

221. Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed

to be a lot longer than that. That twenty-five hours seemed more
like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having
trouble comprehending exactly what took place wasn't helping
the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire
incident might make a little more sense.

222. He heard the song coming from a distance, lightly floating

over the air to his ears. Although it was soft and calming, he was
wary. It seemed a little too soft and a little too calming for
everything that was going on. He wanted it to be nothing more
than beautiful music coming from the innocent and pure joy of
singing, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was likely some
type of trap.

The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had

223.
dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had
 become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he
spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She
knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a
sludge hammer to it.

224. He dropped the ball. While most people would think that
this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely
literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that
dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped
the ball.

225. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random

paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing
back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing
consistently again!

226. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its

cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid.
"Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of
hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID
card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

227. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were
thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

228. It was the first day of the rest of her life. This wasn't the
day she was actually born, but she knew that nothing would be
 the same from this day forward. Although this was a bit scary to
her, it was also extremely freeing. Her past was no longer a
burden or something that she needed to be concerned about and
defend. She threw off the covers keeping her warm in bed,
placed her feet over the side of the bed, slipped on her slipper,
and took the first step of the first day of her new life.

229. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25
years. The only difference was there was someone actually
sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that?
Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the
presence in the chair now.

230. They had always called it the green river. It made sense.
The river was green. The river likely had a different official
name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the
green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the
green river was a fluorescent pink.