No one had ever called her wild before. She wanted to be wild now, for him. Wild seemed more enticing then a bowl of berries.

The book smelled dusty and old but also carried a sweet tang, a hint of something inviting. She opened to the first page and started to read, pronouncing the words in a reverent whisper.

My ma says You can't unspill a stew." "She also says Undoing a wrong is greater than doing a right." "You know, Ma is very good at saying two things at once.

Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff. Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.

But, how do you know if an ending is truly good for the characters unless you've traveled with them through every page?

He did a very good impression of a stone column.

Sometimes one does not mean to fall in love. Sometimes it just happens