Old Man Winter stood in front of his mirror and took a good look at his reflection.
Sure…he was an old dude now. The weathered lines etched across his face didn’t diminish the rugged handsomeness that would always remain. 654 more words
Sometimes I write tiny stories.
Here’s my latest:
“Darling, roll over,” Melania said softly to the giant orb of flesh topped with a pop of silky wheat floss on his head lightly emerging from his slumber next to her in their fur-covered, diamond-encrusted, Tsar-sized, Tempur-pedic bed. 137 more words
there’s a bespoke bottle of perfume on my dressing table, unremarkable glass bottle all but blending into the wall behind it.
i designed it a while ago, trying to pick out the various notes and fragrances that i felt best suited you; the ones that best reminded me of you, to be used when you were gone. 92 more words