wise_sage

The flannel shirt had become my uniform. Not by accident—by deliberate, calculated theft that I'd been executing every Sunday for the better part of three years. Paul's old red-and-black Buffalo Plaid

The laundry hamper was overflowing again, and I didn't care. Not even a little. Eighteen years of living with you had taught me that laundry could wait, but the way you were looking at me from the doo