Denise Stone

Sometimes you have to grab life by the neck and choke it real good.

How could anyone find a person cleaning up a river unattractive?

My eyes finally find his heavy intentional stare. “Only the people I’m close to get to call me Ave.”
“Well,” he whispers against my neck. His callused fingers press deeper into my flesh. “What do you call this?”

She’s become a stain on my thoughts. A piece of lint that refuses to leave the fabric of my mind. I’ve caught myself veering toward her on more than one frustrating occasion.
I need to spend more time around her, pick her brain and watch her take each of my pointed words in stride.

If my loss means she’s happy, I’ll concede it.

Sometimes the people who are meant to love you forget how to, and you wander through life alone.

“If you hook up with him on the boat, you can finally say you had your Titanic moment.”
“If you’re referring to the part in Titanic where Rose lets Jack drown, then you are correct.”

“You don’t like the look?”
“Suits never impress me,” I lie.
Well, it use to not be a lie. The handsome linen suit covering Luca’s broad shoulders is beginning to change my opinion on the matter.

“You know, now that you’re stuck on this crowded boat all night, you might actually have to make conversation with people.”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“Let’s be clear, you and your overpriced suit are being tolerated as I come to terms with being trapped here.”
“You talk about my suits so frequently, it’s almost as if you’re obsessed with them, contrary to your statement earlier.”

“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet we still stand here, suffering.”