Wind as old as Rome outside my window, inky fleece clouds against charcoal crushed velvet skies, fall feels soulful, like a LaBelle octave.
Bubbly is bogus.
It's not the way Zane looks, David, she said, her voice trembling with anger. It's because he makes me bubbly, and because we took a lot of risks together. It could just as easily be me lying there, a...