One Hundred Percent Home
I think I’ve had to get good at making a home for myself where there was none before.
I think I’ve had to get good at making a home for myself where there was none before.
Beyond the walls, the infected lurk—zombies in all but name.
It was so sweet how you wanted to make me feel comfortable.
I can’t believe that I’m unconvinced about a romance with People Magazine’s Sexist Man Alive Paul Rudd. It’s a waste, really.
The best days of our lives are behind us; the best days of our lives are before us.
He sings along as he weighs my onions.
Something felt almost sacred about holding them, the faded writing scrawled on the back of fraying cards.
Unlike computer interfaces, however, life has yet to present me with a box I can check that says “Do not ask me again.”
After a year or so, he wouldn’t remember the first trip, and the third trip with the same snack samples would be just as much of a treat.
If I had to choose between a mediocre french onion soup and a meal of three corn dogs with spicy mayo, I would choose the former every time