Age Ain't Nothing But A Number Meaning Novels & Stories

The counter-agent was moving through the city in the hands of people who understood what it was for. Forty three people were standing in this building alive and present and no longer counting themselves every morning to make sure the number held.I turned back to Adrian."After." I said."After." He confirmed.And for the first time in two lifetimes that word meant something other than a distance to survive toward.It means now.

So here is where we'll start. I believe I am eighteen, or twenty. I am unsure. We really don't have clocks or keep track of time. Most think that clocks and calenders, numbers in general are a hindrance. Alpha often would say that humans were slaves to numbers. Money, time, deadlines, weight, age, height. I have little clue what money is though, or what it looks like. I do know it is a currency type deal. Like a means of bartering? Yeah.

Chad didn't know how to play with words right and I thought that if he was being careless at the moment, only to apologize, I'd give him a sharp piece of my mind but he shook his head negatively. "No, no." He sat upright with wide eyes, "that isn't what I meant. I was thinking about my time with my ex, she would always make me go through so much just to apologize if I was wrong, I was getting prepared to go through that round all over but you surprised me, that's just all I'm saying I promise." The way he called her his ex almost made me laugh. He was making it sound like they had broken up for over a long time now and I thought it was adorable. The stupid bitch that always ignored my mails.

Eva glanced up, met his gaze without flinching. “What’s your favorite number, little miss?” Her mom opened her mouth. Eva beat her to it. “Four.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why four?” “Because it’s the only number equal to the sum of its own digits squared.” He blinked once. She blinked back. Her mom choked on her wine. Her Aunt ducked her head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Her dad said, very calmly, “Eva, darling, can you pass me the bread?” She handed it over with a straight face. Then kept eating. The table paused. Then pretended it hadn’t happened.

Explain yourself! ‘This news is too shocking!’ ‘What does '419' mean? I saw it in a comment.’ ‘419 means For One Night. 4 – four (for), 1 – one, 9 – nine (night).’ ‘I got it!’ ‘Let me just say something… Xavia Lockhart is really pitiful. Something like that happened to her when she was so young and she had to raise a daughter alone. I scolded her for having no self-love before, so I would like to solemnly apologize to her.’

the text read. "If you don't, then forget it," another text entered his phone. "What's your favorite number?" Detective Joe asked Justin who was still driving. "Why do you ask?" Justin asked. "Just answer," detective Joe laughed. "Seven," Justin said. "Why?" Detective asked. "It represents perfection" Justin explained. "What's yours?" Justin asked surprised by that question. "69" detective Joe said. "What?" Justin asked surprised. "69" detective Joe laughed. "Drive me to Star Lounge," detective Joe said laughing.

he said. His father chimed in with an explanation, saying, "Exactly, you're a grown man and she's not." I continued with a caustic comment, saying that "if I was a grown man, then age would be the least of our troubles." Although I received a lot of sideways glances for the comment, I could hear Dean giggling quietly behind me. The topic of discussion was promptly brought back up byLevi. He shrugged and said, "Age is just a number."

“No​t​ weird​. Just—nost⁠algic.” On the drive home,​ without⁠ Zara, the ca‌r feels e⁠mpty. “T⁠hree down,” Amon says. “Three to go.” “We’re gett​in⁠g old.” “⁠We’re fo‌rty⁠-six and forty-four. Not ol​d.” “We have a​dul⁠t ch⁠i‍l⁠dre‍n. That’s old‌.”

She could not have forgotten everyone’s number, could she? Angeline blurted out, “52013140831!" Jay frowned. “Stop screwing around.” Angeline said, "I read it backward." Jay was stunned… Then his frosty and charming face melted at once. He picked Angeline up all of a sudden and chirped, “Let’s go and have something to eat.” “Put me down, darling.” “No.” “Ahhhhh… Watch your waist. I’m getting heavier now.” “My waist is perfectly fine! Want to try it out?”

Just ten digits. Her heart began beating faster. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, forcing herself upright. “Let’s see who you really are.” She opened her laptop and typed the number into a search engine. Nothing. No results. No business listing. No social media. No records at all. Her brows furrowed. “That’s impossible.” Everyone had something online. Everyone left traces. She tried another website—one of those reverse phone lookup services that usually dug up embarrassing details about people’s addresses and relatives.