He crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted until she met his gaze. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered, and her lips just as full. Only the distress in her eyes was new. At least that was something he could fix
You know how I get angry sometimes? That's because it's the only way I can still feel. And I need to test myself, to make sure I'm really here.
..it's not how much you work, but how working so much makes you feel that counts. And how I felt was iserable.
I walked him down to the front door, and the Savannah air assaulted me as I opened the door. “This town was never the same without you.” He turned around and started his short walk home, disappearing into the black of the night.
I suddenly realise that it doesn't matter how far I go, or how lost I am, or how lonely I feel. I fit in here. I always will. That's how I know I'm home.
scary mommy confession #80920 " I invited you into my home as a guest. And you brought my two year old permanent markers and play-doh. next time I visit you, I'm bringing your teenage daughter condoms and crack.
When you're in an extreme situation you tend to avoid facing it by getting caught up in little details. Like a guy who's decided to commit suicide and boards a train only to become obsessed with whether he remembered to lock the door when he left hom...
Can I buy you an ice cream beforeI take you home? I feel like it’s the least I can do after scaring your shirt off.
I know you think I should be home taking care of my family. That maybe I’d be distracted or I wouldn’t be as committed as the rest of you, but who’s more committed: the person with something to lose, or the people who’ve got nothing left?
Our backyard looked like a marketplace. Valuable objects, precious rugs, silver candlesticks, Bibles and other ritual objects were strewn over the dusty grounds- pitiful relics that seemed never to have had a home. All this under a magnificent blue s...
I make friends as easily as water freezes in an active volcano. Remember: handshakes feel more natural if you leave your rubber gloves at home. Unless you enjoy networking in public restrooms.
Tempting as your offer is, I won’t go home with you. I can’t sleep with you, Justin. You say it doesn’t have to be that way, but you and I both know that’s the way it would be. You’re a risk I can’t afford to take.
People were freaked out, but they showed it in weird ways. Back home, people would have been weeping and doing a lot of very public group hugs. At Wexford people just aggressively pretended nothing had happened.
There was another silence. I felt, above all, tired. Tiredness: if there was a constant symptom of the disease in our lives at this time, it was tiredness. At work we were unflagging; at home the smallest gesture of liveliness was beyond us. Mornings...
I love to stalk. I love to stalk you real, real good. I took your name home after our date and we had the best Google session of my life.
Once I got home, though, and saw several packages on my front porch, all the crap from the day disappeared. A few had smiley faces on them. Squealing, I grabbed the boxes. Books were inside-- new release books I'd preordered weeks ago.
I unwrapped my love for her like one might unwrap leftovers. Gotta eat up the old stuff first, as a cannibal might say in a retirement home.
I blew the love trumpet until my cheeks were blue. Then I paid 34 bucks for a taxicab ride home so I could admire my receding hairline in the mirror.
I thought of the one thing about home that I missed, my dad's study with its built-in, floor-to-ceiling shelves sagging with thick biographies and the black leather chair that kept me just uncomfortable enough to keep from feeling sleepy as I read.
I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now...Come further up, come further in!
I think I kind of like the idea of you all cold and wet." "Oh right, I'll be at my best; no visible balls, and a dick that looks like a Chiclet..." "I can fix that," laughed Connor.
