It's often a matter of sitting in front of the computer and worrying. It's what writing comes down to--worrying that things aren't going to work out.
Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned lashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away.
People learned to live with the most unimaginable things.
In the end, the world always wins. That's just the way of things.
All my life, she gave to me a shovel and said, Fill these holes inside of me, Pari.
People say that eyes are windows to the soul.