One hot evening, they carried him onto the roof, and he could look out over the top of the town. She said, “I know what it’s like to be dead.” A pause. “Of course, what I am saying now is from a Beatles song.”
This was a man she loved with a violent love, and she spent much of her time thinking about his wife. “Amelia needs to go away, George. The sooner the better. Look at you, crippled by her poisonings, nearly deaf, NEARLY
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If it weren’t for that double-shot caramel macchiato with extra whip, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Okay, let me start at the beginning. I was already late to the Philosophy Club meeting when I decided to stop off for a caramel macchiato. Heavy doses of sugar and caffeine were essential, as I would be participating in lively discourse on Existentialism, Rationalism, and “Which Came First: The Chicken or The Egg?” It was going to be a
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