I went to see my boyfriend in Chardon yesterday. I finally bought a book that I needed for my editing class from him; the book was called “Woe is I: The Grammarphobe’s Guide To Better English in Plain English.” He was an English major, which is why he had the book in the first place. He even returned my gray leggings that I misplaced in his room last semester, which was a bonus. I also went to have dinner with him at Subway. I managed to finish a 12-inch Bacon and Chicken Ranch submarine sandwich all by myself. He and I were both impressed. He did not want to eat anything, though, because he was going to have a spaghetti dinner with his parents within a few hours. I offered him a bite of my sandwich more than twice. While I was gorging, he and I talked about the lacking job market in Ohio because he has been looking for jobs since he graduated from the University of Mount Union last semester. Despite the dreary topic, talking to him was my favorite part of Martin Luther King Day, to be honest. I had not seen him since December 17, 2010 before yesterday. Considering that I used to spend an average of at least five hours with him per day while he attended the University of Mount Union, the few weeks where we did not see each other seemed like an eternity.
Xara Nahara O’Connor