ROUND GLASS ACCENT TABLE : ACCENT TABLE

Round glass accent table : Coffee tables lift : Stainless coffee table.

Round Glass Accent Table


round glass accent table
    accent
  • A distinct emphasis given to a syllable or word in speech by stress or pitch
  • A distinctive mode of pronunciation of a language, esp. one associated with a particular nation, locality, or social class
  • A mark on a letter, typically a vowel, to indicate pitch, stress, or vowel quality
  • distinctive manner of oral expression; "he couldn't suppress his contemptuous accent"; "she had a very clear speech pattern"
  • stress: to stress, single out as important; "Dr. Jones emphasizes exercise in addition to a change in diet"
  • emphasis: special importance or significance; "the red light gave the central figure increased emphasis"; "the room was decorated in shades of grey with distinctive red accents"
    round
  • Alter (a number) to one less exact but more convenient for calculations
  • wind around; move along a circular course; "round the bend"
  • Pass and go around (something) so as to move on in a changed direction
  • Give a round shape to
  • a charge of ammunition for a single shot
  • from beginning to end; throughout; "It rains all year round on Skye"; "frigid weather the year around"
    glass
  • A hard, brittle substance, typically transparent or translucent, made by fusing sand with soda, lime, and sometimes other ingredients and cooling rapidly. It is used to make windows, drinking containers, and other articles
  • A thing made from, or partly from, glass, in particular
  • furnish with glass; "glass the windows"
  • a brittle transparent solid with irregular atomic structure
  • a container for holding liquids while drinking
  • Any similar substance that has solidified from a molten state without crystallizing
    table
  • Present formally for discussion or consideration at a meeting
  • Postpone consideration of
  • postpone: hold back to a later time; "let's postpone the exam"
  • a set of data arranged in rows and columns; "see table 1"
  • a piece of furniture having a smooth flat top that is usually supported by one or more vertical legs; "it was a sturdy table"

Expecting. 3 A black New York Yankee’s cap and large dark framed glasses--I told her to look for them at the arrival gate. Though I also told her that it wasn’t necessary to pick me up from the airport, that I was fine with getting to her apartment on my own, she had insisted. “I appreciate it,” I said. In New York, Charlene had not even offered to. I got from JFK to Stonybrook on my own. Ying was thinner than the photos. She wore a too large blue cardigan that hid her wrists and made it appear as if she was in a constant slouch. Underneath the sweater was a pale floral patterned dress that came down to her knees. She finished with brown boots. Sloppy but relaxed. California. She saw me before I saw her and waved as I was coming out of the gate. I extended my hand out and she shook it. I thought it was an odd thing to do but it seemed natural. Waving back and simply saying “Hello” seemed not enough. And we were not familiar enough for a hug. What was I doing here? “I”m Kevin,” I said. “I know,” she said, “It’s been a while. You look much different from the last time I saw you.” I had lost a lot of weight since my teenage years. Back then, I was rounder, baby fat not willing to let go of childhood yet. My mother and the girls at school teased my chipmunk cheeks. My mother pinched them whenever I feel asleep on the sofa while watching TV. After my second year of college, whenever she saw my sculpted face, relatively so, and put her hands around my arms to feel them she said, “You’re a man now. Handsome.” “How was your flight?” Ying said. She brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen by her face behind her left ear. They were not pierced. “It was shorter than I imagined. Nothing like the flight from Taiwan. I slept the entire way here.” “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat around here if you’d like.” “Let’s just go back to your place first. I still have to book a hotel later. How did you get here?” “I took the subway.” “You shouldn’t have bothered,” I said. “Actually, I don’t have live too far from here. It’s only 15 minutes away.” “I see.” We walked through the airport to where the subway entrance was. It was inside the airport she told me. Outside, cars, vans and taxis dropped people off or picked them up. I had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and it was not so busy. San Francisco was not as gray as New York. It reminded me of home, Hualien. In some ways. The blue sky. The sunshine. The casualness of the traffic and the way people dressed and moved. It was how California appeared to me in the movies. Ying walked a step ahead of me, occasionally turning back to look over her shoulder as I dragged my luggage. One roller trailing behind me. One carry-on on my shoulder. The things inside would carry me through the month. Two weeks with Charlene became a week and a half last night. Now there was the rest of the time. I didnt’ tell Ying how long I was staying for. I imagined it’d only be a few days. I could change the ticket and go back home anytime I wanted. The only things I left in New York was a pair of dress socks and underwear. I didn’t realize that I had left them underneath her desk until I was well over Utah. “The weather is not much different than in Hualien,” I said. “It isn’t. You’ll like it here.” “I think I would. Do you remember much from when you use to live there?” “Not really. We were there for only three years.” Three years is a long time I thought to myself. “You know, I don’t remember the time you visited. I’m not even sure if it happened. Your uncle and our parents always mention it whenever you come up.” “They mention me?” She turned and waited for me to catch up. We were taking the escalator down to the station entrance. “Once in a while.” Had I said something wrong? Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it. We didn’t talk the rest of the way. On the subway, her phone rang and she took the time to respond to the messages. “I talked to my roommates. They’re fine with you staying for a few days so you don’t have to feel so rushed. They’re nice people.” “We’ll see,” I said, “I mean about staying.” I hadn’t noticed we automatically talked in English. It felt natural. Being here, my Mandarin seemed out of place. I hadn’t felt this way when I was Charlene. She hated talking to me in English unless she had to. And she was always self-conscious of her accent, taking time to unfurl each word with full precision as if it to give them more weight--therefore, however, musn’t, stay here, why do you have to go, please leave. I had none. We got off the subway a few minutes later. We call it the BART, she said. She pointed out her stop on the map after we exited the ticketing gates. Balboa Park. It’s easy to find she said, there isn’t too much around here, but you can go here and here, she pointed at the adjacent stops. The Mission, it’s called. She told me these things in a dry and precise tone. “You look tired.” She sat next to me with
Breakfast of Champions (7-2-9) Part 1
Breakfast of Champions (7-2-9) Part 1
Jonathon Coage slowly walks up to Madre's and stops in the doorway. He leans sideways against it, looking in. His sharp and cold blue eyes travel over each person in the room quickly, noting those he knew or recognized in his mind as well as any obvious armaments. His quick gaze suddenly stops and lingers on Nerio for a moment before moving on again, a face he recognized from the hotel in Levi. His ears pick up on a few of his words, especially the Yakuze comment. An interesting sidenote for him to attach to the face. He lifts up from the doorway and walks in, quietly sitting down on a chair at the opposite table and propping his legs up. Niyol Clawtooth: "Shoe's ain't for sale. Just was curious the name of the boy that's got mah aunt attemptin' ta hide under the table and assaultin' her nephew cause she can't pick up her jaw from the floor herself." He smirks. "Nice ta meetcha Dylon we should... chat sometime." He would lower his hand as it wasn't taken in a shake before he would turn at the sound of his father's voice, bowing deeply in a japanese fashion. "Forgive me Pa. " He would try to return swiftly to the table with a glance to Fina giving a smirk. A look that plainly said bright as day that he could do worse to embarrass her. Dmitry Luminos cracks his neck slightly and grins somewhat at the large number of recognizable faces within, though there's at least one he didn't want to see. On the other hand, there was one he was -really- glad to see. "Hey! Niyol!" he says suddenly, throwing up a hand in a wave. Serafina Fall fiddled with the olives on the plate. Sploosh. Another little red tongue leapt from its casing and ski'd over the candle, the platters, to land squarely in front of Nerio. It quivered and sat. Fina. Bit. Her lip. Hard. Stared at Nerio, then her mother, noticed Dmitry in the doorway, and swung back to Niyol and Dylon. She quirked a smirk, because she sure as hell knew not to get up from the table. ".. Sorrrry.." The pimento tongue looked up at Nerio. Dylon Bravin once again looked at the menu "Uh...yeah....bacon and eggs.." No please or thank yous, thats what she deserved for shouting. "Yeah we can hang sometime.."his eyes still on the shoes, when he grows up and looks back on this moment in reflection he might be able to see that his interest in another man's shoes could be considered gay, hopefully he wouldn't be reaming a guy during that moment of clarity. Jaina Lefevre creeps a little closer, doing her best to ignore the NPC guy following her around as she looks at the crowd in Madres. A finger-wave to Niyol and she edges closer, glancing back at her guard. Her eyes widen as she spots Ciro (NotRein!) and she scurried in and behind a bunch of people, the guard following. Ciro Bianchi (Rein) smirks at Jainas response. He does nothing, just eye the crowd inside, relieving male itch at the same time. And thinking of Finas player peeing herself... wishes she had been on cam.. could make good money doing that from the perverts online Allissa Coswell looked away from the table catching a familar scent and looked around until her eyes landed on Jon. Seeing him there made her eye twitch and her nails dig into Nerio's thigh. She was certainly tense at that point and didn't realize her nails were probably leaving deep indents in his skin. Nerio Yoshikawa was now not very comfortable with the seating arrangement he got set into. He didn't have any of his men at this dinner, thinking it rude to bring an entourage of guards with him to a family meal. He shook his head to his mother's response, "I will have to tell you more later. Let me put it this way. The big bosses in Japan. Were ready to tear the Yoshikawa family right from the organisation. I am..supposed to.." *As he was speaking a bit of pimento landed in front of him on the table, twirling about in front of his tapping finger. He flicked it back at his sister. No expression on his face but was he trying to joke with his sister? Maybe..maybe not. He was hard to read most times in public. Then his thigh was being assaulted by his girlfriend and he looked over at her, leaning closer towards her as he said quietly, "Not now..we'll get blood on the pizza" Sapphira Laval drinks her coffee while she waits for Dylon to make up his mind. Eyebrows arched high once more. Looking to see if the boys gaze met Niyol's ass as he moved away. Wuzzit? Hmmmed in speculation. Oh! "Okay, that it? No drink?" She sighed. Not really annoyed by the lack of manners. Once again, this was simply a flash forward. --- oh shit. her face fell some. Realization #2. Flashfoward to ... her kid... that likes shoes. Great. Oh well. Shoving the ticket into the order window. She turned and waited to see if this kid wanted a drink. catching sight of Dmi. This was just a great fucking morning! She was thanking some God for the Mister Fixit that made the coffee. Jonathon

round glass accent table
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