We're All Unique, Just Never In The

And Then He Was Kissing Her, And She Was Struck By His Nearness, His Solidity, His Smell. It Was Of The Garden And The Earth And The Sun. When Cassandra Opened Her Eyes, She Realized She Was Crying. She Wasn't Sad, Though, These Were The Tears Of Being Found, Of Having Come Home After A Long Time Away.

A Twinge At The Edge Of Her Lips And She Continued, The Soft, Slow Lilt Of Recitation: "ancient Walls That Sing The Distant Hours.

Photographs Force Us To See People Before Their Future Weighed Them Down, Before They Knew Their Endings.

... People Who'd Led Dull And Blameless Lives Did Not Give Thanks For Second Chances.

Rejection Is A Cancer, Edie. It Eats Away At A Person.