Cool Blogs: FUCKING MACHINES pulled up to an overgrown yard, flowerbeds choked with weeds, and soggy newspapers littering the driveway. Maggie answered the door in a robe, very pale, almost ashen, hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes. Gone was the girl that had to have makeup to leave the campground, had to brush out her hair at every stop, always wanting to look her best. She just walked away from the open door, didn't even say hi.
