3. LightCarson shivered. It was freezing up here. He sure hoped this was worth it.The only time being a photographer really sucked was winter. Especially evening in winter, and especially evening in winter eighty-six floors up.It wasn't as if he'd never taken pictures from here before. He'd done so millions of times, in fact. That was the advantage of living only half an hour or so outside of New York City: it didn't have to be a big ordeal to visit the Empire State Building. Sure, that took some of the special out of it, but it did provide him with a great vantage point for photography.There were, of course, disadvantages. It was impossible to find the observation decks empty, for instance; everyone else knew how impressive the view from here was, so he always had to share it with other photographers, both professionals like himself, and tourists with their cheap little point-and-shoots. Carson could tolerate it, though. He was patient. He knew how to wait. That didn't
All Over YouAll Over you by The Spill Canvas________________________________________________________________________________"Yeah he's a looker,but I really think it's guts that matter most.I displayed them for you,strewn out about from coast to coast.I am easily make believe,just dress me up in what you want me to be.I'll take back what I've been saying for quite some time now.I gotta feel you in my bones again,I'm all over you.I'm not over you.I wanna taste you one more time again,I'm all over you.I'm not over you.In my daydreams, in my sleep,infatuation turning into disease.You could cure me, see all you have to do nowis please try.Give it your best shot and try.All I'm asking for is love,but you never seem to have enough.I gotta feel you in my bones again,I'm all over you.I'm not over you.I wanna taste you one more time again,I'm all over you.I'm not over you.This life is way too shortto get caught up in all this stuffwhen I just want you to love me back,why can'
Renesmee's Story: Part TwoI woke up the next morning to a cold hand stroking my head. I opened my eyes to find that the hand belonged to my mother who was sitting next to be on my bed. I reached my hand out to touch her face, telling her good morning.Good morning to you too, Sweetheart, she said, still stroking my head. I was just wondering what you wanted your birthday.I thought about it for a second then replaced my hand on her face, showing her a picture of a sleek, shiny, and fast Lamborghini. She sighed with a chuckle at my love of cars, inherited from my father. Even though my mother had a nice, shiny car of her own, she rarely ever drove it, preferring to drive my fathers Volvo, well now his new BMW, or running.Do you want me to make you some breakfast? Or do you want Jacob to? she asked with a laugh and thats when I noticed the sound of his heart beat and breathing in the next room. I let her know that I wanted Jacob to make me breakfast, and through ou