Jenny Longley stood in the musty front room of the house her Aunt Helen left behind in Clarendon Hills, staring at a seam of wallpaper
more loveChristine and I moved into this small home in Buena Vista, Virginia, in 1952. It was our second home and we loved it. Not for
more loveBe It Ever So Humble . . ., it reads in fancy script on a plaque on the wall behind his head, the head in
more loveJoanna smiled at the way her boyfriend stood by the couch in his board shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt that hovered over his bulging
more loveAndy sold his soul to the devil for the woman he loved. But she wasn’t just any woman. She was Charlene—beautiful, wonderful, vibrant Charlene, his
more love11:56 P.M., December 31, 2017 Alcohol tastes sweet in my mouth, and blue lights create pockets of ocean between my shoes. I feel like I’m
more loveI often find myself tied between the frames of my own reality, swaying between the certain and the feverish captivity of what is beyond. Voices
more loveMom’s work schedule had changed. She wasn’t home much and often sleepy even when she was around. Twelve-year-old-me wrote a letter saying I missed her,
more loveThe joy in Billie’s eyes reflected the warm, low, glow of the candles on the tables. Vince wanted only to gaze at her – to
more loveI sit beside sorrow heading crosstown, eyes straining to catch the address through iridescent drops pelting the windshield. I step off the tram and climb
more loveA party for my wife’s 34th birthday. I dance with the woman I crazily love. Is this why I threw the party? Back-up fiddles swirl:
more love“Isn’t this great, sweetie, inside Cinderella’s Castle? You love her story about the glass slipper I’ve read to you a hundred times.” David pointed. “See
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