If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them.
How many different deaths I can die?
I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can
I woke to the sound of rain.
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
It was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.