Best feeling ever

I'M ALL DONE!!!! TEST OVER, STRESS GONE!!!!
Seriously, I feel wonderful. No idea if I passed or how well I did, but I feel satisfied. Hope that's a good sign, but then, you never know. I'm really not functioning on all cynliders right now, so I'm just going to cut to the part where I paste in some writing for you all. I love you all, and thanks for the prayers and thoughts!

Ok, here are three snippets I had to write for my creative writing class that involved showing emotion rather than telling. I promise you all that next Saturday you will have better things to read. But these are good. I am proud of them as they are.

Laura stroked the faded portrait softly as tears rolled their familiar way down her alabaster cheeks. Kyle’s teasing smile reflected back up at her, laughing at her, but comforting her still. She tried to smile back, but felt it wobble dangerously, the portrait now shaking as her hand trembled. Pain swelled within her chest until she was sure she could no longer bear it. She closed her eyes and put the portrait back on her desk facedown. With a shuddering sob, she buried her face in her hands and released all of the agony of the last three days in this one moment of privacy. She pulled his old sweatshirt from behind her in the chair and clutched it to her face, sending her cries into its depths, letting the lingering scent of Kyle invade her.

Greg floated back up to his dorm room in a haze, not quite sure what he should do next. His cheek still tingled from the sweet pressure of Hallie’s lips, and his tongue was still swollen from being in her presence. Had he said anything stupid? Had he said anything at all? He couldn’t remember. The flowery smell of her hair still penetrated his brain and muddled his thoughts. With a sigh that was probably out of place for a 19-year-old man, he flopped onto his unmade bed and fought to hide the stupid grin that he felt spreading across his face. Did he call her now? Did he call her later? Did he wait for her to call? These were pressing questions, and ones he couldn’t ask the guys.

Books flew across the room as Andrew hurled them in every direction. Grabbing them by the spines or the pages, any part of them he could hold, he threw them against the walls, the doors, the floor. He did not care where they landed, what they broke, or if they were damaged. Any object on his desk was not safe from his attack. Priceless vases lay in shattered pieces on the floor, the bottle of wine lay demolished to one side of his desk, the deep red liquid slowly leaking onward. An animalistic cry burst from his throat as he cleared an entire stack of books from his desk in one last motion. Exhausted, he collapsed into his chair, put his elbows on his desk, and sank his face into his hands, shaking as if he had been retrieved from a freezing lake. How could Rebecca entangle herself with another man? Wasn’t he enough?

Happy Weekend!!! Later.