He went on, kind of secretly like he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
But, if you are a writer, or a gymnast, or a woodworker, and never, ever find the time to ply your craft, from either love or lust, I have to wonder if you’re doing something you really love.
“Hey, man. Long time no see! How you doing? And the kids and your wife? How are they?” He looked at me like I had hit him.
Another wordless Wednesday
Since you asked, Yes, It’s true.
She’s right. I pay all of thirty-eight cents to make a cup of coffee with our Keurig machine, and it pokes me hard on my insides when I pour it out, unfinished, tepid and half-full.