Taylor M Welch
“Hello. My name is Kimmy. Welcome to our first date.” I straighten in my chair-- pull down my shirt, adjust my tie, smooth back whatever hair I have left. “Hi Kimmy,” I answer. “You’re... you're very beautiful.”
Let’s say— for the hell of it— that you’ve just awarded me with $20,000. Suppose I won your writing competition, and acquired more money than anyone would know what to do with. Naturally, we’d have to ask ourselves a few questions:
It goes like this: If you know me at all, you’d know that I’ve never been one to believe in astrology. I’ve always thought it was, well… kind of dumb. I mean, seriously. Your whole personality being judged by a set of stars? Sort of far-fetched, don’t you think?
There's No Love in February
It’s not enough to be alone on Valentine’s Day. For it to hurt-- to really, really sting-- you have to have your heart broken.
The Barn Owl rested upon his perch, scanning the street below. Somewhere, just having gotten off of work, a man would be arriving on the I85 Bus from West Elm.