"And here's my confirmation form." The brunette smiled gently, she had bright red lipstick and an aura of confidence around her. "Just take a seat in ...he chair." The man behind the computer pointed to the chair at the back of the room, surrounded with white screens and a camera in front of it. "Ready? One...Two...Thee... " He said and the photo was taken. I could see the screen from where I was standing and it looked like a models photograph. How a girl gets that pretty is beyond me. She stood. Whatever, I say breathlessly. I head back down the three flights of stairs to my red, beat up, 1986 Honda Civic, where the last of our shit resides. As I struggle to hold the boxes and close the trunk, I hear a voice. Moving in? Now Im no poet or romantic of any sort, but the one word Id use to describe this voice would be angelic. And in case you were wondering, but it wasnt a mans voice I was hearing. Not to say a man cant have the voice of an angel or anything. I shut my trunk, which. More

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