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“Sorry. I’m freaking out.” “I know.” I smile as we pass by the gas station where I first laid eyes on her. “I’m being a bitch.” “No, you aren’t. You’re just using the coping skills you’ve got.”
She has a beautiful, antique-style brass bed frame. It’s dainty and polished, probably cool to the touch—just like her. But if you hold that metal long enough, it will heat. Take on the temperature of its surroundings. Winter just needs a little heat to warm herself.
He’s playful but not flighty. Fun but dependable.
