Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that I had ever heard.
There are ways of dying that don't end in funerals. Types of death you can't smell.
Nights without work I spend with whisky and books.
In traveling, a companion, in life, compassion.
If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.
my heart would swell without warning, and tremble, and lurch with a stab of pain. I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and waiting for it to pass. And it would pass -- but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache behind.