II. Paranoia

She’d be reading in her chair, or snuggled up in bed watching tv. There’d be a knock at the door and she’d wonder who was at this odd hour. She wouldn’t be scared that it’s an axe murderer because for some reason she just knew it wasn’t. And so she’d get up and walk toContinue reading “II. Paranoia”

Say Something

Realism is minute; it is the drama of a broken teacup, the tragedy of a walk down the block, the excitement of an afternoon call, the adventure of an invitation to dinner. -Frank Norris,  A Plea for Romantic Fiction (1901)   “Can I sit here?” she asked, blue eyes batting. He looked up, “of course.”Continue reading “Say Something”