When “so close” becomes “too close,” people sniff and step away— it’s body odor
the chip of diamond in my ring, some days feels more like a cement slab.
This week’s writing prompt at 3LineTales is the image below. “There it is son; that’s the house I grew up in.” “Gee, Dad…it’s so dark…weren’t you scared?” “Uh, no….we usually turned the lights on at night.”
Recipe for Peace: Hold hands and sing Kumbayah Add water, shake well.
love is not patient nor is it kind; love, it seems, doesn’t give a damn. there isn’t always someone for everyone: sometimes there’s no one