Red spots covered the tiles, more wine? I hoped so.
It was supposed to be a sentimentalist evening in, the two of us trying to rekindle what we at a time had, but things had gone awry as soon as I had looked to the window to admire the view.
Just like the rains progress slowly megabucks the panes, crying began to stream down her at a time beautiful face.
I set my wine glass down hard on the kitchen counter, the force too strong, it fell and break in two but the noise didnt startle her.
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Her tears didnt move me. When I had first found her, autumn had been my jumpstart and winter was my summer but her presence now leftfield me frigid.
What, just what is the guinea pig? I asked her, and then sighed because it didnt actually matter what she said anymore.
Matthew, do you remember when I first came hither? her mice-like dull eyes stared up at me, the familiar intake in my loins, there was none.
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Winona didnt come here, I took her. Tricked her into loving me and for a while I had dearly loved her back, but my adoration for her had soured after her sixteenth birthday, her pre-pubescent hips had swelled to those of a wo macrocosms, she fill a brassiere and she had started to think like an adult.
Winona, my sweet Winona had stolen my cold heart in the Winter of 1946, I was in sassy York, after lending my services to World War Two, as a reward I was given a two-dimensional ticket to anywhere in the world, it just so happens that I chose New York.
AÂ twenty-eight year old man with handsome features and a smart suit sat on a wooden bench overlooking the frozen puddle in the center of central park.
This man, namely myself, was approached by a young kittenesque creature, pawing at my coat, she mieowed to ask if I had any pennies so she could use the binoculars that stood next to the icy body of water.
I stepped back to take her all in, but let her soundless cling to my arm.
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