Dating advice for women from shawn king
Under either name, it was not a typical venue for a preteen’s birthday party. Shangri-La by FDR, because it was essentially replacing the presidential yacht.
A former recreation camp built by the WPA during the Great Depression, it was turned into the presidential retreat and named the U. It had acquired its current and far less exotic moniker from Dwight Eisenhower, who named it after his grandson.
She selected a window in the back of the building instead of breaking in the front door. She popped the swivel latch, slid up the window, and wriggled through. As each fresh piece of paper was catapulted into the catch bin her heart rate seemed to increase by the same single-digit measure. Yet those six letters had always seemed to deﬁne her, breaking her down into some simple formula that still no one seemed capable of understanding. A spear of lightning was followed by a long burp of thunder. Such violence could not be sustained for long; it used up too much energy far too fast. She cut the engine, picked up the pages, ripped off the rubber band, and started to read. She coughed and then hacked, but that only made it worse.
The motion detector was handled with ease; she was humming as she did it. She was getting close to it, what she was here for. She put the original ﬁle back in the drawer, popped a rubber band around her copy, and held it in both hands. The SUV idled, kicking carbon into an atmosphere already bloated with it. She could see people start to pick up their step as they sensed the approaching downpour. The swells of saliva had solidiﬁed in her mouth, just like they had when she’d nearly killed herself on the water rowing to an Olympic silver medal that meant less and less to her with each passing day.
An instant later he was gone as she turned the corner and slowed. The bundle of pages was hurled out, landing squarely in a Dumpster.
A moment later her SUV was lost in the punishing face of the storm. Elegant forks digging into creamy goodies while toughened ﬁngers coiled around curved metal trigger guards.
It was, she ﬁnally concluded, an underlying sadness that easily matched her own despair.
She turned the key, put the SUV in drive, and hit the gas.
The words were there of course, but she couldn’t see them. You can handle this.” Her words were low, sounded forced, hollow. Her dad was a police ofﬁcer on the way up; her mom, was, well, her mom. Yet as she squinted through the downpour she saw that the streets weren’t empty.She walked calmly back to her SUV, a breeze again, invisible. Yet looking through the windshield, she didn’t want new, she desperately wanted things to be the way they were. In those pages was someone else’s life, secrets, torments. She pulled the rent paper close to her face though her eyesight was perfect. She looked out the windshield and couldn’t see anything there either, so hard was the fall of rain. The words were clear, her memories also crystallizing, as she crept back to that isolated wedge of personal history.Nightlife going on all around here; they never saw her. She glanced at the ﬁle; saw the name on the first page. The streets were empty now, the people having scattered at the first bite of water bent nearly horizontal by the wind. When she turned the page and her gaze ﬂickered over the date on the top it was as though the lightning outside had somehow grounded right into her.The chief chaperone and planner of the event was Jane Cox.It was a role she was accustomed to because Jane Cox was married to Dan Cox, also known as “Wolfman,” which made her the First Lady of the United States.Constituting only a few pounds, its weight still threatened to sink her right through the ﬂoor. She grabbed a bottle of G2 and poured it down her throat, some of it spilling on the seat and the pages.Out the same way her boots made a clunking sound as they kissed asphalt. She wanted to drive, always loved to rip her eight cylinders down some new road to where she didn’t know. She cursed, scrubbed at the paper, trying to dry it. This made tears creep to her eyes, she was not sure why. “[It's] an interesting word, ‘rumor.’ You know, I’ve been in the business – next May I’ll be 60 years – and I’ve dealt with rumors a long time, interviewed people involved with rumors. And I tell you the truth: I don’t pay any attention to them,” Larry says in the clip.“Last week there was a rumor going around about Larry and a speech he made in Kiev, and there was all this [speculation] about that,” Shawn added. You have to just develop a shell around yourself and not get hard on the inside and stick together.As she raced past, she glanced at him as another thrust of lightning cracked and brieﬂy made night into day.Both their images seemed solidified in that blast of energy, each of their gazes frozen onto the other.