Entire lives pour out of my fingertips on a fairly regular basis. Letters form into words that describe entire worlds… Well, they used to. Description used to be second nature to me. 295 more words
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“Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky tonks, restaurants and whore houses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flophouses.” 37 more words
Sophie doesn’t give a shit about having a dad. She hasn’t had one in years and has been just fine.
When her mother decides she needs to maintain her social status with a new husband, 18 year old Sophie finds herself face to face with the peppered dark hair, and wise blue eyes of the goddamn cover model of all step-dads. 33 more words