Descriptive Essay : Hopping On The Trolley

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Hopping on the trolley, I ticked the Waffle House off of my mental list. It was now about five thirty, and the sun was almost on its way over the horizon. The lights hadn 't turned on quite yet, but my anticipation was as high as I was hungry. Maybe after a quick trip to and from Fourth Coffee and I could visit Blue Fort for dinner. After all, I could wait. Dinner wasn 't on my mind as much as this box was. I stepped off the trolley when it came to the stop right down the sidewalk from Fourth. I climbed out with a grin on my face, looking over the box in-between my hands. The wooden exterior was so innocent, so quaint, but I knew that I had ought to figure out what mysteries it held or I wouldn 't be able to go to sleep that night. Walking into the coffee shop, I set my box down at a nearby unoccupied table. I sat down in the booth, curling me around around my right side and laying it over my lap. Resting my arms on the top of the table, my eyes burned into it, turning my ideas over and over. I seemed to be trapped in the strange feeling that the box was going to stand up and tell me what it was thinking. Sighing, I stood up again. I took the box to the front desk and set it down. Behind the desk was Copper Slade, taking care of someone else 's Mocha. "Sallo, Tod!" he said, smiling and looking up at me for a second. "Sallo, Copper..." I sighed, glancing up at him just long enough for our eyes to meet and a smile to form on my face. Afterwards, I immediately went down

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