Why do you persist when giving up is so much easier?
The past is just a goodbye unless it’s redeemed by words on paper.
The new is always hiding in the old.
Standing there, shriveled, he notices the cleaners didn’t put enough starch in his shirt; he needs the added back support these days – spineless, you see.
Her father stood up from his seat slowly until he towered over the Mayor whose head now reached no higher than the Butcher’s paunch. And like the volcano that created their island, he erupted…
What are some of your secret childhood memories?