Winter 2005
The sunrise does not blaze fiercely but spreads in a gentle flush.
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His mother’s face had been that pretty, though more resigned.
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I put my arm around Larry’s shoulders and ask him to pull over.
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Eating a raw oyster is like exchanging a soul kiss with the sea.
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I could become something new. Improved. Like detergent.
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A cold wind screams across the empty shelves of the fridge.
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I don’t think I was very frightened. I was simply hungry for home.
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