I quite liked that idea to punctuate my logical thoughts with the expressive feelings of poetry, and maybe it’ll encourage me to write more since I’ll surely run out of my poetry soon.
She died on a rainy Tuesday morning in a hospice room that smelled of industrial bleach and synthetic lavender, exactly seventy two hours before our first wedding anniversary.
IH don't want to imply that I am unpleasant when I can't have my coffee first thing in the morning, but I am bad enough to scare the pants off Mr.airy Situations