That night, you show up in your Tom Baker scarf.
The trees are frozen, the ground solid and cruel, and you — a country boi at heart — don’t care. Bravely, you march round to my wooded entrance. I’m flushed as I open the door; you don’t come in.
We exchange knowing grins, coyly speaking with our eyes, then walk out into the icy night.
This is going nowhere and we love it; tension is our kink.
Karolina KozmanaBy rejecting alcohol, you reject something very human, an extra limb that we have collectively grown to deal with reality and with each…
UnbecomingIt’s August in Northern Virginia, hot and humid. I still haven’t showered from my morning trail run. I’m wearing my stay-at-home mom…
Sufyan Maan, M.EngThink before you speak. Read before you think. — Fran Lebowitz
Hazel Paradisemany ways to start a passive income today
