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There I sat at my computer desk. Twirling the yellowing note between my fingers. The paper seemed fragile with age, and delicate with the message hidden inside. I'd read it over and ver millions of times, but still each word brought a new meaning with it's age. With the memories it accompanied, I couldn't dare part with that litle slip of fragile, aged paper. I tucked it back inside of the silk lined pocket on my usually overful purse.
The man to my right asked what clouded my thoughts, and I ied once more, telling him that I was fine. He saw throught the white lie, and smiled, knowing to ask nothing more.
The woman to my left hugged close to my shoulder and insured me that I should be happy, but all I could do was fib with a feeble grin.

(that is my interprettation of how lunch went today)
Another lame little story out of my mind. Pathetic eh?