I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I want.

I had my whole life planned.. I knew exactly where it was taking me.

I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.

I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.

It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here

Age is a terrible thief. Just when you're getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse.