It Was Just Perfect, Just Right All

There Is Never A Time Or Place For True Love. It Happens Accidentally, In A Heartbeat, In A Single Flashing, Throbbing Moment.

When He Stopped Walking And Kissed Me A Few Minutes Later, It Was Like Time Had Stopped, With The Air, My Heart, And The World All So Still. And It Was This I Remembered Every Other Time I Was With Marshall.

She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth: If You Truly Remembered How Awful It Got, You'd Never Do It Again.

Some Things Are Meant To Be Broken. Imperfect. Chaotic.

And That Was As Far As He Got Before I Heard It. The Thumping Of Footsteps, Running Up The Lawn Toward Me: It Seemed Like I Could Hear It Through The Grass, Like Leaning Your Ear To A Railroad Track And Feeling The Train Coming, Miles Away. As The Noise Got Closer I Could Hear Ragged Breaths, And Then A Voice. It Was My Mother.