This story came from a funny conversation I had where someone explained what she did on her scrapbooking weekends (I didn't really know what a scrapbook was). The last line was what she said as to the reason why it was so enjoyable...it just seemed so kooky to me. So mine is in the 100 catagory...
She looked at the photos, faces smiling at her on beaches and mountains. The arm causally draped over her shoulder. She could cut out his head, and he would cease to exist in the recorded history. Except the hand left on her shoulder. A ghost hand in an image mounted on a carefully decorated page in an album of her life to be filed away as a mistake. D for disaster.
As if reading her mind, the woman next to her moved the scissors away. Raising her glass of wine in a toast she grinned "You don't scrap book angry!"
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