Okay. Scrabble, donuts, flowers, corndogs, pre-pubescent British wizards and indie music. Am I missing anything important?”
She’s still blushing and it’s like the heat in her face is trapping all the words inside of her. “What is it?” I ask, an involuntary grin tugging on my mouth. I love it when she blushes like this.
Amy sighs, looks up toward the chandelier, “You, Cole. I like you.
Mots clés sweet
All we get are moments, Cole. One at a time, like heartbeats. Once all of them is gone, that’s it. No do-overs. No repeats. Every moment possesses its down kind of magic and what we do with it counts. It counts.
Autumn DoughtonMots clés moments
Don't you get it? No one has ever been anything to me until you.
Autumn DoughtonHer. One word. A simple pronoun that seems like an entire vocabulary.
Autumn DoughtonI've forgotten to remember
Autumn DoughtonMots clés inthismoment
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