1.6.27
“Please Sharon, what should I do? Do you see that twinkle in my eye? Tell me, is this the one? I want it to be, so badly now, can’t you see? Is this enough? Will Evey again love me?”
“Please Sharon, what should I do? Do you see that twinkle in my eye? Tell me, is this the one? I want it to be, so badly now, can’t you see? Is this enough? Will Evey again love me?”
“Look at this, the pearloid teeth shine like the stars and the lights move across it like satellites do in the night, oh my, look here at the setting engraved with little floral designs.
“Yes, this sounds,” the shop-clerk pined as the browser spun back down to browsing, her sarcasm passing below the surface of a chuckle, “so liberating.”
On winter nights I slip-slide down the gridwork road, my eyes two sled rails to glide across the slick white snow. I sped away this time from my crackling fireplace in the stall and watched myself from behind. He’d get a running start and dive down hills where white glowed reddish underneath sulphur street lights,
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“Certainly, well,” histrionics dulled as Addy thought for longer than a moment, “I guess I want it to be something special, you know, for Ev.”
“Oh, but Sharon, isn’t this such fun, the most? Right before the joy of having options open is crushed by a single, solitary choice? I have them all before me now, but once I choose I’ll have just one behind!”