Fumbling The Bag Meaning Novels & Stories

She lunged forward. Her fingers catch the handbag. Anais grabs it too. Some of them began to struggle. One pulled, the other pulled back. The poor bag she bought at a thrift store could handle that much force. And so the handle snaps. The card almost falls. Anais panics. Without thinking, she shoves Fiona away. Fiona stumbles backwards and lands hard on the floor, making a dull “thud”. The wad of cash she had taken earlier fell from her handbag.

Next second, Luke's fist slammed into his face. "Get lost. If you're this delusional, go get help. Stop harassing my girlfriend." Philip hit the ground. Blood dripped from his nose into the snow, bright red against white. I steadied Luke, told him to wait a little ways off. Then I walked over and looked down at Philip. "You said you want us to go back to how we were?" He looked up at me, eyes lighting up. "Yes, yes... will you forgive me?"

I just didn't bother trying to deal with any of my own. Caleb jogged up next to me, having had stayed frozen after I began to walk away. "I screwed it up, didn't I? I always fumble and mess up when I am nervous." His free hand ran through his hair violently, the way he normally does when he is stressed.

She spun, hair wiping around her face, and wiped it away to find Felix smiling at her. "So I figured out a way to get back at Riley, Adam and Jamie in one fell swoop," he said in a conversational tone. Alice considered screaming. It was possible Riley was in range to hear her, though not likely. Her second thought was to grab her keys from her bag. But which side pocket were they in? If only she kept her bag neat and ordered she would've had a better chance at locating them in an emergency. 'Damn my messy bag,' she thought, staring dully at him without moving, like a deer in headlights.

I held the bags close to my chest with the other hand. Just after I stepped out of the elevator door. I did an airswipe command to show me the time left and I still have 5 more minutes to make it out of that door. I smiled for my freedom was just a few feet away. While I'm walking, my tears flow uncontrollably when I drop one of the bags on the floor and it spills, causing me to slip. The other bag rolled somewhere I don't know how I ended up in this condition, but I hurt my leg while in the process.

Her joyful voice brought me down to reality and I hurried to put the rest of the things in the bag before facing her. “I hope you are done Miss,” Her distant steps became sharper and louder. “Oh yeah,” I unintentionally shouted and scrambled the rest of the things into the bag, trying my best to rearrange it properly. I arose from my awkward position and flashed her a nervous smile. She smiled at me questioningly when she saw me with her bag. “Sorry, I tripped over my foot and fell. Silly me,” I explained sheepishly. I gently placed her bag back on the couch in the same position I saw.

My legs were shaking as I head toward the door. What have I done to myself. Why am I this daft and stupid to not probably his just a bag properly. Aside been plus-sized , stupidity is my next But. I picked up the bag. Moved back to my position as I outstretched my right hands. Placing the bag on the table before her. I dare not place it on her laps or waiting for her to receive them in her hands. She would rip me off my head immediately if I ever try it. “Whose luggage is this.” She asked, staring at me.

DROGO The bag jerks on its chain with every strike, leather groaning under my fist. Sweat drips from the curve of my jaw, falling soundlessly to the floor. My knuckles throb, my breath seizes with every hit. But I don’t stop. A hiss slips between my teeth as the eleventh bag bursts, swallowing my fist. Weren’t these bags supposed to be strong? Fûck.

This can't be fucking happening. I walked close to the machine and lightly tapped my fingers aganist the cold glass. The bag stayed right where it was and I let out a frustrated sigh. After five minutes of furious glass tapping, I gave up. Letting my arms drop to my sides, I glared daggers at the delicacy playing hard to get. I looked around. Seeing that the corridor was practically deserted, I lifted my foot slightly above the ground in an attempt to kick the damn machine half to life.

I rammed my fists into the bag, sending it flying backwards and striking it with violent kicks, but the fucking bag didn't budge. It was just as stubborn as the emotions that were eating at me. I aimed for emptiness, but the more it brushed my fingertips, and I struggled to grasp it, the farther it slipped from my hold. I wanted to purge these feelings from my system, but they were just as hot-headed as I was.