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day. He said if it counted for anything, they were just texts. He hadn’t fucked her.
I didn’t read the description so I actually didn’t expect this
You had to make rules for yourself, and you had to follow them, or you really were lost.
Even though he rarely wanted the walk, he was always glad for it once he got going, if only because it got him out of the house.
He longed to stab and hack his way out of a desperate situation: to hold off bullies, or wolves, or maybe a mountain lion.
going to do with himself if his academic career was over, he didn’t know why he hadn’t stopped sexting with Parker Townsend when things were obviously going too far.
score on Rate My Professors was so high, he was considered something of a rock star academic,
Sexting wasn’t infidelity—it
Hello.
One of the roots shifted and pressed against his ankle, snaking gently around it.
“Oh, bullshit. She’s twenty, not twelve.
What is this mentality
“Oh, Dennis. I never said you wanted her. You wanted this. You wanted to smash your marriage and your job and your life, all of it, into a thousand shiny little pieces.” “Why would anyone want that?” “Why do little kids break windows?” his soon-to-be ex-wife asked. “Children love the sound of smashing glass. Firebugs love a book of matches.”
that in America, even disgrace could be monetized. Even shame had market value.
The cat hung from the low branch of a tree on the left-hand side of the path.
NOOOO
they sneaked up on me while I was sleeping and wrote TRUMP 2020 on my forehead.”
“That’s probably why it’s moving. The knife wounded it so it couldn’t go anywhere. Now it’s getting better.”
He felt she owed him a fuck at this point. He was doing the time—he might as well get the pleasure of doing the crime.
What is going on rn
You know why it looks that way, don’t you? Dennis Lange asked himself. It’s not just age. That tree was fertilized with poison. The choir director was poison.
it splatted on his cheeks, sticky and thick—it felt more like sap than rain—and he saw the derelict in the branches above him, sitting against the trunk, perched astraddle a wide bough. “Hey, man,” Dennis said, “how’s the view up there?” The derelict didn’t reply.
Maybe napping, Dennis thought.
You dummy
The man had been attacked by an evil murder tree? “Besides,” he said to his empty kitchen. “It’s going to eat him. Who says anyone is going to find him?”
