A year ago in 750 words in Flash

God what do people write here? I looked at people's comments and many of them seem to be serious writers who use this as a rehearsal or notebook or way to clear their mind - whatever that means. I just babble. I like it. Or I tell myself I do. It's like my job. I say how much I like it but sometimes I'm bored or tired or sore or angry. But still I like it. I have reasons for liking it. Like writing here. I do not accomplish a lot but still. I am here.

I would like to have a hot bath. A warm bed. A long sleep.

I would like to have a car. A full tank of gas. A good radio.

I would like to have a good meal. Meat. Salad.

I would like to have a friend. A friend to talk to. A friend to trust.

I would like to have a lover. A lover to touch. A lover to kiss.

I would like to have a dog. A big yellow dog. A dog named Gracie.

I would like to have a book. A book to read. A book to remember.

I would like to take a trip. A trip to visit LBH. A trip to Canada.

I would like to have shoes. Shoes that fit. Shoes that made my feet feel good.

I would like to smile at you. To smile at your face. To smile at your body.

I would like to walk. To walk to the top of the hill. To walk back home.

I would like to cook. Cook perfect food. Cook each day.

I would like to drink water. Water from my bottle. Water from melting ice.

I would like to talk to him. To whichever him is here. To say what I want.

I would like to sit in the blue chair. The blue chair that no longer exists.

I need another hundred words. I need to finish this. I need to have a theme. I need to slide down the fireman's pole. I have to sing wild Irish songs. I like to dance in the moonlight. I need a holiday. I need to know what I want. I need to sacrifice. I need to make decisions. I need to kiss a gypsy. I need to sweep the floor. I need to clear off the table. I need a few more words. I am almost there. I am sad. I have to forget him.

Here's to a good week.