There’s little sense in trying to ration with a barking Yorkie. No way to explain to her that this time, the man she’s grown accustomed to looking out for every evening at a quarter past six isn’t coming back.
As he squeezed her hand and looked deep into her eyes, she wondered if it was only her eyes he could see, or if he was able to look through them and into the dark lair where she kept her secrets hidden.
She blinked a couple times and looked away, an innocent smile on her face, deceptively stealing interest in the beauty of their surroundings, not yet ready for her eyes to plead guilty.
It wasn’t all bad.
Sometimes she made food.
Lying in bed last night she tearfully asks me, “If I hadn’t told you I loved you, would you have still slept with Tasha?”
This morning I think that if it hadn’t been so damn good, I might feel guiltier.
Of all the men she could have or should have married, she had to pick the most venal, corrupt, two-timing, charming rascal that ever drew breath.
When the police asked her why she did it, she replied, “Not for God or country, womanhood or honor, rather, for the pure visceral satisfaction of chopping his beautiful body into pieces.”
The spellbinding and heart-wrenching tale of Romeo and Juliet can be summed up in a mere few words; they came, they shagged, they died. In this, they were like every other human couple who joined biological forces, except that the title pair were in such a toxic rush.
He thought of all the possible reasons to stay: the sex, her ability to just quietly listen when he had to pour out his heart, her timeless smile, her soft, pliant body, the sex, the way she was always there for him, the sex…
“Look, we’ve had some fun times, and you’re great and everything, but I’ve met someone real,” he said to the blow-up doll.
Only two out of a thousand say yes, aye, but none are worth the time. That’s why you drink — you drink so that most of your tears (and piss) evaporates, so that you won’t freeze when given the cold shoulder.
“No one understands our love,” the dragon sighed.
“Interspecies relationships will take time to be accepted,” the princess said, “But at least he had nice stuff to add to our hoard.”
I was so intent on staring at Tina Miller, with her blond hair and cheerleader body, that I failed to notice the open locker and I was knocked to the floor.
A mousy girl helped me pick up my books and took me to the nurse to treat the gash on my forehead, and that was how I met your mom.
Jess stands in her bloody, torn nightgown, silently willing her hands to stop trembling, as she carefully aims the rifle. Her hands steady and her focus clears as she reminds herself that just one well-placed shot, fired quickly before he awakens, is all it’ll take to end his reign of abuse and her short-lived marriage.