a young girl sat quitely at the old creaky booth, paint peeling and little dust motes twirling in the air as she shifted slightly. She looked up through wispy sany bangs s she silently waited. But what she waited for, she didnt know. All she knew wasthe call she had recieved from her boss earlyin the morning. Very early in the morning. BAgs drooped under her eyes and she clenched her coffee with white knuckled fists. Her expression grew vacant as time passed. A hand lightly brushed her shoulder, causing her to jerk away. Thebooth protested under her weightas she rolled off the hard wood seat, recoiling from the touch, her hand shoved into her overcoat pocket. Swiftly she drew out a small pistol, twirling it expertly in her fingers as she sized up the man who touched her. His aviator sunglasses obscured his eyes from view. His expression remained neutral even as he stared down the barrel of the gun. “Hello agent. I am glad to see your skills haven’t become rusty during your…vacation,” The girl grimaced, stowing her gun back into her pocket and settling back in the booth. Paint flakes chipped off as she propped her elbow on it.
Brushing her bangs away from her eyes, she glanced at the man “What have you got for me Boss?”
Her boss grinned at her, flashing all his teeth in what many would consider to be winning, but the girl knew better than to underestimate him. “I have a job for you,” he replied, tossing his briefcase onto the table.
He saw her in the booth far away. She looked so beautiful, her hair was straight black; eyes gleaming brown; lips tinted pink with the gloss she would always use. The moment their eyes met, they both knew it was meant to be.
The seat was made of worn, smooth pleather, rubbed shiny by the thousands of bodies who had occupied its girth. The table, though old, was meticulously scrubbed clean. The diner was past its prime time, but obviously still well loved and taken care of by its inhabitants.
I sat in a booth at a diner ordering some food when a young lady propped herself in front of me and asked, “Did you know your my son?”
“No, i am not,” i replied. “I have one of those, her name is Mary.”
“Yes i know,”
The booth shook gently as the wheels clicked and locked onto another track, this time heading south it seemed. A sun hung lazily in the sky above. Trokl lifted a mobiler and threw it towards a neighbouring booth, one following in uncertain tandem. He enjoyed talking with strangers.
phone table tickets movies kissing raise me up get me higher im a little kid just trying stand time to eat place to order your the one ill take your order
i once sat in a booth, a booth with my back to the door. i found that looking at the door always showed my date i was looking for an out. turned out that day, the out found me. he was a pretty boy, all curls and dimples and wit and charm, and so beautiful was he that I never saw the gun in his hand…the bullet with my name on it. i should have paid the dry cleaning bill.
The diner was an old on, 60’s themed and somewhat abandoned. We sat across from each other, slurping chocolate milk shakes brought by a waitress that insisted on calling us both “hun.” The light was fading, and twilight took over the parking lot outside.
Two tables make up my booth, here in the baking sun of Toronto. I listen, and I hear the people around my booth. Some will stop to take a look, some might not even gaze my way. Yet it doesn’t matter who stops to buy, just as long as my booth serves them well.
Sitting in the booth, she watched him, bewildered and disappointed. For the last 15 years she had remembered him fondly and now every word he said was tearing apart the ideal of the man she had thought him. As he spoke on, her cheeks were growing hot with the anger and shame of deception.
KISSING booth, Dunking booth, food booth, beer booth. I’m so glad that Mudbug Madness starts in two day!!! I want to eat everything fried and double dipped in grease. It’s only twice a year I want to eat chocolate covered bacon and fried snickers.
jOHN WILKES BOOTH ASSAINATED JFK to my knowledge. A private booth at a luxury restarant would be a wonderful date to be proposed to. Booths at sixflags where you win stuffed animals and beta fish are pretty cool.
Booth We sat in the booth sipping at our orange soda eating French fries covered in malt vinegar. The booth was old, the seat worn, and the color faded in the old dinner.
friends encircled, nothing to look at but eachother. conversation radiating in an enclosed circle. laughter, warmth. food for hunger, drinks for thirst. we like our seats attached please, we’ll take a booth.
He slid into the red plastic booth, the smell of strawberry shakes strong in the 24 hour diner. She slid across from him, not looking at him, getting distracted by the laminated menu in front of her. He stared at her intently, waiting for her to look at him.
I already had this word, and I wish I hadn’t gotten it again because it makes being creative a bit more tricky. I think I did something wrong, I just found this website and its great, if only it would give me a different word.
In the booth they sat kissing. She put her hand in his hair and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. Suddenly they heard a sound like bullets being fired into a frying pan, he pushed her out of the booth and placed himself proctectively over her body.
well gee a booth is an awesome place to hang out without having to hang out with people you dont want to hang out with. The thing is you should never trust a booths owner with keeping it tiddy wilst you make your hangin out worth while
The other day I was watching a documentary about a man who’d been left in an airport as a baby. He was something like a week old. Anyway, he went around meeting other people who’d been abandoned as babies and he met a lady who’d been left in a phone booth. She found her real mum, but it didn’t work out and he hasn’t found his real mum yet. Quite sad really:(
the theater booth was filled. Booth came to the theater. “Booth”, the ticket taker asked. “Who has a name like ‘Booth’?” “I do” Booth said. He came to his seat and watched the play. He then killed a president. His name was John Wilkes Booth.
In a seemingly long hallway, the words peeled off the walls. Booth. Mail. Phone. Photo. What could they possibly mean? Maybe in another light, the words will be glued back up and the whole picture will make sense again.
She sighed, staring down the line of carnival booths, and could not believe that the magic had left her; no longer did the raucous cries of the peddlers set her heart in motion, and no longer did the brightly colored prizes, which swayed delicately in the wind, catch her eye and plead for her to play their game.
I sat at a booth one time in a restaraunt and this woman came up to me and started talking to me. Her name was Jeanette and she had this ugly dress on. I told her she should wear something else if she was going to be in public but she didnt care about my opinion and left yelling profanities at me.
I saw the ticketbooth and stomp towards it mad as hell and ready to rip his heart out. With his coy arrogant little smile that he always used with EVERYBODY. As he finished up with the customer in front of me and say me his face dropped
“Ehh… umm Aoife… I uh…”
“Shut up we need to talk.”
A man who slept with bones. How have they both shown up in here? i don’t even watch that show but I like something about their chemistry. Maybe I just like relationships. Who knows if it’s love or not or if it’s lasting or not, but if you heed the warning of everyone, you’ll never know. They’re always trying to keep you away from it. It being love, the only it that matters.
Having extricated from the tangle of brush in the ravine, Jensen moved on, eventually finding a small dirt road that led into the dense trees. After a couple of kilometers, he came upon a red London phone booth situated on the side of the dirt road. “What the fuck?” he mused out loud, actually happy to see some color in the grey landscape.
coated with dust and time and hellos and goodbyes. fire-hydrant red and wood-backed. there’s a rickety lamp hanging above the table, and a lipstick mark on the glass that seems etched in forever.
“get me another glass,” says a stranger in a trenchcoat.
“i’ll have one of those, too,” you tell the waitress as she passes by your booth, and she takes your glass wordlessly. a minute later, she’s back with some liquid amber sleep. you take a sip and it tastes like nothing, but
Booth. a photo booth. we say in one of these. do you remember? because i do. i still have the pictures. the film strip. i still remember every single memory. not only in that photo booth. but of us. in general. how happy you made me. how sweet you were. when you would kiss my forehead not my neck. you were genuinely sweet. but you lied. you hurt me. you stabbed me in the back. and sadly id still take you back. sad isn’t it? how quick you can just hurt someone. make them fall and let them fall.
He peered into the booth and saw something familiar. Someone familiar. He knew he had encountered that face before. That long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on who it was. Could it be a old high school sweetheart, or coworker? He quickly figured it out. How could he have forgotten that long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes? He approached her.
He peered into the booth and saw something familiar. Someone familiar. He knew he had encountered that face before. That long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on who it was. Could it be a old high school sweetheart, or coworker? He quickly figured it out. How could he have forgotten that long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes?
booths are comfy and spacious. They’re usually pretty cold. I’ve sat in many colored booths before ranging from natural to neon. Booths aren’t just seats they can be phone booths. booth rhymes with tooth but theres no booth fairy.
The phone booth had cracked Plexiglass and ads for a missing girl, another plain-Jane face I didn’t recognize. Norah Goldwyn, age 12, brown eyes. I dug two quarters out of my back pocket and chanted his work number, like a mantra, to myself.
The little booth in the restaurant we sat in was lonely. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen as we sat there for hours just talking… catching up. Words couldn’t express how happy and relieved I felt to be with to my dad after all these years, telling him everything. Then I woke up. I tasted the painful reality. He’s still in heaven. And I was still alone.
i was sitting at a booth one day and a an came up,asking for some spare change. i told him i didnt have any, even though i knew i had a couple quarters in my back pocket. my mom always told me not to talk to strangers, and to disregard them if i could. so thats what i did
a place that you can sell and do stuff at
a young girl sat quitely at the old creaky booth, paint peeling and little dust motes twirling in the air as she shifted slightly. She looked up through wispy sany bangs s she silently waited. But what she waited for, she didnt know. All she knew wasthe call she had recieved from her boss earlyin the morning. Very early in the morning. BAgs drooped under her eyes and she clenched her coffee with white knuckled fists. Her expression grew vacant as time passed. A hand lightly brushed her shoulder, causing her to jerk away. Thebooth protested under her weightas she rolled off the hard wood seat, recoiling from the touch, her hand shoved into her overcoat pocket. Swiftly she drew out a small pistol, twirling it expertly in her fingers as she sized up the man who touched her. His aviator sunglasses obscured his eyes from view. His expression remained neutral even as he stared down the barrel of the gun. “Hello agent. I am glad to see your skills haven’t become rusty during your…vacation,” The girl grimaced, stowing her gun back into her pocket and settling back in the booth. Paint flakes chipped off as she propped her elbow on it.
Brushing her bangs away from her eyes, she glanced at the man “What have you got for me Boss?”
Her boss grinned at her, flashing all his teeth in what many would consider to be winning, but the girl knew better than to underestimate him. “I have a job for you,” he replied, tossing his briefcase onto the table.
He saw her in the booth far away. She looked so beautiful, her hair was straight black; eyes gleaming brown; lips tinted pink with the gloss she would always use. The moment their eyes met, they both knew it was meant to be.
The seat was made of worn, smooth pleather, rubbed shiny by the thousands of bodies who had occupied its girth. The table, though old, was meticulously scrubbed clean. The diner was past its prime time, but obviously still well loved and taken care of by its inhabitants.
I sat in a booth at a diner ordering some food when a young lady propped herself in front of me and asked, “Did you know your my son?”
“No, i am not,” i replied. “I have one of those, her name is Mary.”
“Yes i know,”
The booth shook gently as the wheels clicked and locked onto another track, this time heading south it seemed. A sun hung lazily in the sky above. Trokl lifted a mobiler and threw it towards a neighbouring booth, one following in uncertain tandem. He enjoyed talking with strangers.
telephone. product. school booth. I remember the movie starred by Colin Farrel. Suspense-filled but unlikely to happen.
phone table tickets movies kissing raise me up get me higher im a little kid just trying stand time to eat place to order your the one ill take your order
i once sat in a booth, a booth with my back to the door. i found that looking at the door always showed my date i was looking for an out. turned out that day, the out found me. he was a pretty boy, all curls and dimples and wit and charm, and so beautiful was he that I never saw the gun in his hand…the bullet with my name on it. i should have paid the dry cleaning bill.
The diner was an old on, 60’s themed and somewhat abandoned. We sat across from each other, slurping chocolate milk shakes brought by a waitress that insisted on calling us both “hun.” The light was fading, and twilight took over the parking lot outside.
The pretty photobooth is witness of so many love stories, I wish it could talk…
Two tables make up my booth, here in the baking sun of Toronto. I listen, and I hear the people around my booth. Some will stop to take a look, some might not even gaze my way. Yet it doesn’t matter who stops to buy, just as long as my booth serves them well.
Sitting in the booth, she watched him, bewildered and disappointed. For the last 15 years she had remembered him fondly and now every word he said was tearing apart the ideal of the man she had thought him. As he spoke on, her cheeks were growing hot with the anger and shame of deception.
KISSING booth, Dunking booth, food booth, beer booth. I’m so glad that Mudbug Madness starts in two day!!! I want to eat everything fried and double dipped in grease. It’s only twice a year I want to eat chocolate covered bacon and fried snickers.
jOHN WILKES BOOTH ASSAINATED JFK to my knowledge. A private booth at a luxury restarant would be a wonderful date to be proposed to. Booths at sixflags where you win stuffed animals and beta fish are pretty cool.
He strolled up to the ticket booth, his smile firmly in place. “Two please.”
The girl behind the glass looked up.
Booth We sat in the booth sipping at our orange soda eating French fries covered in malt vinegar. The booth was old, the seat worn, and the color faded in the old dinner.
friends encircled, nothing to look at but eachother. conversation radiating in an enclosed circle. laughter, warmth. food for hunger, drinks for thirst. we like our seats attached please, we’ll take a booth.
He slid into the red plastic booth, the smell of strawberry shakes strong in the 24 hour diner. She slid across from him, not looking at him, getting distracted by the laminated menu in front of her. He stared at her intently, waiting for her to look at him.
I already had this word, and I wish I hadn’t gotten it again because it makes being creative a bit more tricky. I think I did something wrong, I just found this website and its great, if only it would give me a different word.
In the booth they sat kissing. She put her hand in his hair and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. Suddenly they heard a sound like bullets being fired into a frying pan, he pushed her out of the booth and placed himself proctectively over her body.
well gee a booth is an awesome place to hang out without having to hang out with people you dont want to hang out with. The thing is you should never trust a booths owner with keeping it tiddy wilst you make your hangin out worth while
The other day I was watching a documentary about a man who’d been left in an airport as a baby. He was something like a week old. Anyway, he went around meeting other people who’d been abandoned as babies and he met a lady who’d been left in a phone booth. She found her real mum, but it didn’t work out and he hasn’t found his real mum yet. Quite sad really:(
telephone booth kissing booths places to comunicate to rely to connect
toll booth is where you pay for the pleasures in life you take
the theater booth was filled. Booth came to the theater. “Booth”, the ticket taker asked. “Who has a name like ‘Booth’?” “I do” Booth said. He came to his seat and watched the play. He then killed a president. His name was John Wilkes Booth.
In a seemingly long hallway, the words peeled off the walls. Booth. Mail. Phone. Photo. What could they possibly mean? Maybe in another light, the words will be glued back up and the whole picture will make sense again.
She sighed, staring down the line of carnival booths, and could not believe that the magic had left her; no longer did the raucous cries of the peddlers set her heart in motion, and no longer did the brightly colored prizes, which swayed delicately in the wind, catch her eye and plead for her to play their game.
I sat at a booth one time in a restaraunt and this woman came up to me and started talking to me. Her name was Jeanette and she had this ugly dress on. I told her she should wear something else if she was going to be in public but she didnt care about my opinion and left yelling profanities at me.
I saw the ticketbooth and stomp towards it mad as hell and ready to rip his heart out. With his coy arrogant little smile that he always used with EVERYBODY. As he finished up with the customer in front of me and say me his face dropped
“Ehh… umm Aoife… I uh…”
“Shut up we need to talk.”
A man who slept with bones. How have they both shown up in here? i don’t even watch that show but I like something about their chemistry. Maybe I just like relationships. Who knows if it’s love or not or if it’s lasting or not, but if you heed the warning of everyone, you’ll never know. They’re always trying to keep you away from it. It being love, the only it that matters.
Having extricated from the tangle of brush in the ravine, Jensen moved on, eventually finding a small dirt road that led into the dense trees. After a couple of kilometers, he came upon a red London phone booth situated on the side of the dirt road. “What the fuck?” he mused out loud, actually happy to see some color in the grey landscape.
coated with dust and time and hellos and goodbyes. fire-hydrant red and wood-backed. there’s a rickety lamp hanging above the table, and a lipstick mark on the glass that seems etched in forever.
“get me another glass,” says a stranger in a trenchcoat.
“i’ll have one of those, too,” you tell the waitress as she passes by your booth, and she takes your glass wordlessly. a minute later, she’s back with some liquid amber sleep. you take a sip and it tastes like nothing, but
Booth. a photo booth. we say in one of these. do you remember? because i do. i still have the pictures. the film strip. i still remember every single memory. not only in that photo booth. but of us. in general. how happy you made me. how sweet you were. when you would kiss my forehead not my neck. you were genuinely sweet. but you lied. you hurt me. you stabbed me in the back. and sadly id still take you back. sad isn’t it? how quick you can just hurt someone. make them fall and let them fall.
He peered into the booth and saw something familiar. Someone familiar. He knew he had encountered that face before. That long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on who it was. Could it be a old high school sweetheart, or coworker? He quickly figured it out. How could he have forgotten that long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes? He approached her.
He peered into the booth and saw something familiar. Someone familiar. He knew he had encountered that face before. That long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on who it was. Could it be a old high school sweetheart, or coworker? He quickly figured it out. How could he have forgotten that long, blond hair and those deep, blue eyes?
hola:D que tal?
estik provan aixo, apa adeuu!(:(K)
jiji
booths are comfy and spacious. They’re usually pretty cold. I’ve sat in many colored booths before ranging from natural to neon. Booths aren’t just seats they can be phone booths. booth rhymes with tooth but theres no booth fairy.
The phone booth had cracked Plexiglass and ads for a missing girl, another plain-Jane face I didn’t recognize. Norah Goldwyn, age 12, brown eyes. I dug two quarters out of my back pocket and chanted his work number, like a mantra, to myself.
The little booth in the restaurant we sat in was lonely. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen as we sat there for hours just talking… catching up. Words couldn’t express how happy and relieved I felt to be with to my dad after all these years, telling him everything. Then I woke up. I tasted the painful reality. He’s still in heaven. And I was still alone.
i was sitting at a booth one day and a an came up,asking for some spare change. i told him i didnt have any, even though i knew i had a couple quarters in my back pocket. my mom always told me not to talk to strangers, and to disregard them if i could. so thats what i did