“She blushes like a rose in bloom, though I ripped her up from the roots long ago.” — Stacey Jay Copy Share Image
“Okay. Scrabble, donuts, flowers, corndogs, pre-pubescent British wizards and indie music. Am I missing anything important?” She’s still blushing and it’s like the heat in her face is trapping all the words inside of her. “What is it?” I ask,… — Autumn Doughton Copy Share Image
