Wednesday, May 7, 2014
It was too gentle to call a chill, but if you know California’s subtle seasons the air was unmistakably fall. Eddie looked out over the penthouse balcony at the boats in the marina and the fading pastels over the point. He smelled the Plumeria on his hands. For a moment—just long enough that when he looked up the sunset had deepened, and then it was gone—he wished he hadn’t pushed her.
Posted by Dr. Preston at 7:25 AM