TheyÆve grown comfortable with their money,Æ I said. æThey genuinely believe theyÆre entitled to it. This conviction gives them a kind of rude health. They glow a little.
TheyÆve grown comfortable with their money,Æ I said. æThey genuinely believe theyÆre entitled to it. This conviction gives them a kind of rude health. They glow a little.
Her death would leave me scattered, talking to chairs and pillows. Don't let us die, I want to cry out to that fifth-century sky ablaze with mystery and spiral light. Let us both live forever, in sickness and health, feebleminded, doddering, toothless, liver-spotted, dim-sighted, hallucinating. Who decides these things? What is out there? Who are you?
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories