Rolling in the long grass, sipping sweet spirits, holding hands in the sun, kissing in the humid downpour. But that was last summer.
Rolling in the long grass, sipping sweet spirits, holding hands in the sun, kissing in the humid downpour. But that was last summer.
She waited for him to take her hand for the first time. He nervously fidgeted with his Smarties box instead. She knew then it would be love.
When will she stop the absurd fanfare-the steak he loved, this dress? She poured a splash of pinot anyway and touched the glass to his urn.
The smiling eyes of his great-grandson renewed his strength. He happily choked out “I do” to the man of his dreams.
She fed him, read to him, helped him undress, caressed him. The next day he called her at work: the handcuffs were still locked.
The editor leans over the table and takes the top off the heart-shaped box. Inside are five chocolatey stories. Reach in and take a bite.