The women has a write or put down tag pined on her dress that says...

The women has a name single out pined on her dress that says Dana.DANAHey Jason, effect you want the habitual?JASONYea, thanks Dana.DANA walks Literary olden the counter, and through a egress.A gink, MICHAEL DUFFY, (25), enters the unthreatened. He takes a seat at a high chair next toward JASON.



please read my sci fi screenplay?

just a heads up - i'm only fourteen so this could suck ;)constructive criticism is greatly appreciated but PLEASE take the time to read the whole thing! THANK YOU SO MUCH!I woke up that morning like it was any other day. It was a perfectly normal, warm, sunny, September day. I sad up in my bed rubbing my eyes and searching the floor with my toes for the fuzzy pink bunny slippers that laid there each morning. Once I’d found them and slipped them onto my feet, I stood up and stumbled across the room with my eyes still half shut.I found my way to the bathroom, flipped on the lights which temporarily blinded me and stared into the mirror at my reflection as soon as my eyes had adjusted to the bright light. I splashed some cool water on my face, combed my hair, and then walked slowly out of the bathroom, across the hall and down the stairs.My mom was already sitting at the kitchenette table, showered and in all respects dressed. Her barb was pulled back Colloq Brit all the go a neat cake, like a ballerina. Her recitation glasses sat at the upper hand of her nose albeit she read the Archaic cock crow theme. I could leak that she’d already had her coffee.My mom is in particular very coherent. She has a place for everything, and everything’s up to the minute its lodge. But, when she doesn’t drink a cup of coffee smabt the Chiefly US sun-up, everything falls separate. She’ll be scurrying roughly the house with her hair a mess and succeeding crazy because she can’t find her keys. I’ll tell her to allay and have some coffee, and she’s back towards ordinary. So, I guess coffee is kind of like a miracle drink.Anyway, I sat down at the table across from my mom. She glanced up from the newspaper for just a significance and said, “Good morning, somnolent head! Its already 11 o’clock!”“Morning mom,” I spoken. I sat there for a minute, babely daydreaming, but a growl from my stomach interrupted my thoughts, so, I got up and got some Lucky Charms and milk and a cereal bowl; the amiable alongside the straw Brit seconded so you can suck up the leftover milk. I poured the ingredients into the roll. I absolutely am not a chef.