She would grab whatever she could - a look, a whisper, a moan - to salvage from perishing, to preserve. But time is most unforgiving, and she couldn't, in the end, remember it all.
She would grab whatever she could - a look, a whisper, a moan - to salvage from perishing, to preserve. But time is most unforgiving, and she couldn't, in the end, remember it all.
"Your mouth never seems to know when to talk," he lowered his head still leaving enough space between the both of us for it to look natural on the outside.
"Or when to shut the hell up."
***
Vivian L...