Silk. She had saved for months to afford it. Sheer gold.
The sky was hung with pink the day I sent everyone away.
I left Los Angeles early in the afternoon of a cloudy Thursday after surfing the morning in Santa Monica.
Turning over in bed, Jeri-Lynne felt an ache and a grief so deep that she clutched her pillow reflexively.
Before I start typing, on this crisp Corona-filled April morning, I need to draw some warmth into my hands.