1198 3 3
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I said, “If this rose doesn't grow another petal in twenty minutes, I'm burning down the neighborhood.” “Just let it go,” said Paul. “No,” I said. “That's what's happening right here.” “You'll try again next…
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62662
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Bobby raises his wine glass in a toast, I raise mine in return, and we touch them lightly to each other, oh so lightly, as if we are afraid the glass will shatter.
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109700
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Her fever spreads through lines of a plaid mini, over burnt milk, darkened to yellow. Fingers explore fabric folds up and into the lost dimensions of logic.
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