Letting Life Lead
Empty mugs and cold coffee rings punctuated the tail of twenty years on a Thursday afternoon.
“We’ll talk again soon,” he said.
She muttered, “What for?”
He kissed her temple, grabbed the duffel, and crossed the threshold. Later, she spied the pristine, rectangle patch where the family portrait had hung.
There's comedic gold behind every painful experience. Here are mine.
playing by my own rules
We take the heat 'cause we gotta eat.
Liz's home for all things writing related.
I have no idea why I picked this blog name, but there's no turning back now
"Our subject isn't cool, but [s]he fakes it anyway."- The Offspring