The fresh smell of coffee soon wafted through the apartment, the smell that separates night from day.
An unhealthy soul requires a healthy body.
Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that I had ever heard.
The library was like a second home. Or maybe more like a real home, more than the place I lived in. By going every day I got to know all the lady librarians who worked there. They knew my name and always said hi. I was painfully shy, though, and could barely reply.
Everything, everything seemed once-upon-a-time.
I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so they can hold the ones they love.