jars of fun, exciting stories
A friend introduced me to The Sun two years ago when we both worked at Enron*. I love that magazine. It reads like the gritty underbelly of your subconscious whispering in your ear late at night... until you notice it's the middle of the day, on a noisy Metro bus, and you're about to miss your stop. It colored all of my days in Houston.
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Triple Entendre
* Odd coincidences. On the same floor of a very tall building, a few cubicles away, different departments, and we found we lived only a few blocks apart. Briefly rekindled a romance that hadn't happened once before, in a different city. Soon she transferred to London. I miss her.
(We each sold our minimal Enron stock holdings long before the collapse.)
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Triple Entendre
* Odd coincidences. On the same floor of a very tall building, a few cubicles away, different departments, and we found we lived only a few blocks apart. Briefly rekindled a romance that hadn't happened once before, in a different city. Soon she transferred to London. I miss her.
(We each sold our minimal Enron stock holdings long before the collapse.)