On our stoop, luck clears its throat like a Mormon missionary and walks away.
She had no life but for us, the boys. She made that abundantly clear.
Sol’s divorce isn’t final, but at this moment, he knows he wants this hot, hod-carrying girl.
I minded the gaps. All you claimed you’d lost and no longer had to give me.
I hate top ten lists. I mean seriously, it’s been done before.
