“On hot days you could smell the pungent stink of sour whiskey baking through the wooden slats like an infection, the same foul odor that seeped from his pores like a thick cologne. The” — Christopher Motz Copy Share Image
“By the time we returned, he’d always be three sheets to the wind, shouting into the sky and having conversations with the ghosts that… — Christopher Motz Copy Share
“On hot days you could smell the pungent stink of sour whiskey baking through the wooden slats like an infection, the same foul odor… — Christopher Motz Copy Share
“Desiccated leaves spun to the forest floor and crunched beneath our feet like dead memories, reminders that summer was no more. It” — Christopher Motz Copy Share
“Ted felt his body growing lighter. His vision faded. A million years passed in the blink of an eye as the planet spun around… — Christopher Motz Copy Share
“They stood there, silent and motionless as the sky cried frigid tears.” — Christopher Motz Copy Share
