For a beat, Matilda and Jasper just stared; each waiting for the other to make a move in their first of many kisses.
I did what?
The last thing she remembered thinking as she stirred the cognac into the beef medallions for their anniversary dinner was “just one taste can’t hurt.”
She had known Marty. Marto, even Dean, but of all the Martins in her life, it was Remy who continuously got her into trouble – and helped her forget them as well.
Michael’s head pounded as he pondered the difference between the advertisement and the reality.
Liquor bottles really put the “bar” in “bar code.”
Abigail seethed as she discovered that, once again, some stupid coworker had stolen her lunch.
It was the saddest story he knew, the saddest he had ever written; and he would keep rewriting it until death, he knew, in the vain hope that someday it might end with any word but “empty.”
Her heart was empty as the bottles the homeless drunks left on the sidewalk.
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