Slee

Ever After
"Our home is littered with his notes. They touch upon the grandnesses of love, of birth, of everything. Among them we laugh at limericks and fall drunkenly to bed. When we wake, we are cocooned, warm in the crooks of each other. Sometimes I nudge a scrap of paper out from the coverlet. Sometimes I let it stay. [This might be considered a victory. But the House is no place for lovers.]"

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