To Call That Writing, Madam, Is An

Caroline Stamped Her Foot In Frustration, But When It Landed, It Landed On Something Considerably Less Flat Than The Floor. "owww!" He Yelled. Oh! His Foot!sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry , She Mouthed.i Didn't Mean It. "if You Think I Can Understand That," He Growled, "you're Crazier Than I'd Originally Thought.

Why Don’t You Purchase An Italian Dictionary? I Will Assume The Expense.” “i Have One,” She Said, “but I Don’t Think It’s Very Good. Half The Words Are Missing.” “half?” “well, Some,” She Amended. “but Truly, That’s Not The Problem.” He Blinked, Waiting For Her To Continue. She Did. Of Course. “i Don’t Think Italian Is The Author’s Native Tongue,” She Said. “the Author Of The Dictionary?” He Queried. “yes. It’s Not Terribly Idiomatic.

How Do You Feel?” She Asked, Trying To Fluff His Pillow. “other Than Terrible, I Mean.” He Moved His Head Slightly To The Side. It Seemed To Be A Sickly Interpretation Of A Shrug. “of Course You’re Feeling Terrible,” She Clarified, “but Is There Any Change? More Terrible? Less Terrible?” He Made No Response. “the Same Amount Of Terrible?

This Has To Be The Most Self-centered Thing I've Ever Said, But No, I Think You Just Wanted To Vex Me.

There Were Rules Among Friends, Commandments, Really, And The Most Important One Was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.