in my mind, i use it as a buffer between my fragile heart and the things that i have suffered if i had a boat that i could power with my hunger i’d sail across the ocean and be back in time for supper
the roads closer to home are still slick with the tightly packed snow protected by shadows but, sometimes, that soft crunch, despite the danger, is still preferred to the gritty grind of salt on ice
he washed until the water ran cold. he scrubbed until the sponge was smooth as satin. the unscathed stack of ***** dishes just relax backed in the sink laughing at him.