This dramatic story began with wine and deep talks about a faraway love.
It's Sunday night, and this feeling is all too familiar. It's a feeling of disappointment.
I had run into that wall. I was at the border of town, itching to take that step out and dash off, leaving everything behind.
So you know when people say "Good morning, how are you?" and you reply with "Potato"? No? Well, shit.
Perhaps they know that, if they stack the pennies, however laborious that process seems, they can also make it to the top.