Post by Admin on Jan 20, 2016 14:28:23 GMT
[newclass=.knocking]width:352px;height:400px;background:#fcfcfc;padding:10px;border:1px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass]
[newclass=.ohknock]width:348px;height:398px;border:1px solid #f0f0f0;overflow:hidden;background:url(http://colourlovers.com.s3.amazonaws.com/images/patterns/5075/5075049.png)[/newclass]
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[newclass=.knocking:hover .ohknock2]margin-left:-700px;transition: 2s ease-in-out[/newclass]
[newclass=.textknock]width:328px;height:30px;border-bottom:3px double #fcfcfc;letter-spacing:-1.2px;text-shadow:#454545 1px 1px;font-family:georgia;font-size:25px;font-style:italic;color:#fcfcfc;padding-top:135px;padding-bottom:4px;color:#fcfcfc[/newclass]
[newclass=.textknock b]color:#fcfcfc;[/newclass]
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[attr="class","knocking"]
[attr="class","ohknock"]
[attr="class","underall"]
[attr="class","alltext"]She gives him no response, and his grip slacks. He turns his head away and breaks their eye contact In respnse to her he should have said nothing. Let the moment be one she could think in, rather than one she had to confront his own weakness as well as hers. Why was it whenever he was with her, he regretted everything he did.
His name dropped from her lips, but he was not sure whether it was in solidarity or in scorn. With her it was hard to tell. He couldn't read the slightest thing about her that wasn't statistics or concrete numbers. Her date of birth, her age, her height, her real name, her wins and losses, the number of photoshoots she had done. In one way it was more than she knew about him...but she could play him like a fiddle.
Lynn slid out of the card, her hand leaving is, dragging the money away. Though she motioned for him to come with her, his body was overtaken by a deep, iron-fisted pressure. The sky above him felt like a thousand miles of water pressing down onto him. The car engine didn't stop. Watching her approach the shop he weighed the odds. Should he drive away, ditch the car. She didn't care about him. There was no point staying around, he wasn't going to get fixed here.
The car was already sliding forward by the time he went against his better judgement. It halted again, and with tremendous effort, Isaiah lifted himself up and out of the car, grabbing his cane and finding himself significantly less able than before. Inside he could hear Lynn and an older woman chat, firing Cantonese back and forth between each other.
A solitary ring of the bell signalled his delayed entrance. He was still being pulled back to the car. He had no reason to stay. Being in a herb shop of all places just reminded him of all those drugs and narcotics. His senses were muddling, stomach clawing, the persistant cold turkey itch becoming violent and screaming.
He caught the comment about the junkyard. "I think so too," he replied as he followed her into the treatment room, finding a seat shoved into the corner of the room. Her question hovering in the forefront of his mind as he tried to make himself comfortable.
His name dropped from her lips, but he was not sure whether it was in solidarity or in scorn. With her it was hard to tell. He couldn't read the slightest thing about her that wasn't statistics or concrete numbers. Her date of birth, her age, her height, her real name, her wins and losses, the number of photoshoots she had done. In one way it was more than she knew about him...but she could play him like a fiddle.
Lynn slid out of the card, her hand leaving is, dragging the money away. Though she motioned for him to come with her, his body was overtaken by a deep, iron-fisted pressure. The sky above him felt like a thousand miles of water pressing down onto him. The car engine didn't stop. Watching her approach the shop he weighed the odds. Should he drive away, ditch the car. She didn't care about him. There was no point staying around, he wasn't going to get fixed here.
The car was already sliding forward by the time he went against his better judgement. It halted again, and with tremendous effort, Isaiah lifted himself up and out of the car, grabbing his cane and finding himself significantly less able than before. Inside he could hear Lynn and an older woman chat, firing Cantonese back and forth between each other.
A solitary ring of the bell signalled his delayed entrance. He was still being pulled back to the car. He had no reason to stay. Being in a herb shop of all places just reminded him of all those drugs and narcotics. His senses were muddling, stomach clawing, the persistant cold turkey itch becoming violent and screaming.
He caught the comment about the junkyard. "I think so too," he replied as he followed her into the treatment room, finding a seat shoved into the corner of the room. Her question hovering in the forefront of his mind as he tried to make himself comfortable.
[attr="class","ohknock2"]
[attr="class","textknock"]knocking on heaven's door
[attr="class","cred"]lemming --