You’re the memory of what chocolate tastes like and squawk of a crow at midnight in a New England October. You are the smell of the air right before it gets cool and everything promising about the changing of seasons. When I look back on our history, I am reminded that sometimes we get lucky in ways we didn’t ask for, but in ways we got anyway, like the universe somehow knew better than we did.
The window is broken, and as the interior of his Corsica gets drenched waiting in head to head traffic, he is reminded of the cliches his mother used to speak in.
Ian is the exact same person at 35, as I would have imagined him to be as a little boy.
In a southern state, she fakes another orgasm and then updates her Facebook status on how happy her boyfriend makes her.
She loves Ohio so much, making it sound like a place I’d like to spend a considerable amount of time in.