I wake to the sunlight pouring through the windows. I smile and slip out of his arms and walk into the kitchen and grab a blood bag. I hop up on the counter and cross my legs, drinking the blood.
Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart -Winnie the Pooh
I wake the next morning to find sunlight shining through the blinds. Smiling slightly, I look at the ring on my finger before standing and joining Melissa in the kitchen. Kissing her cheek, I slide on the counter beside her and take a bag of blood.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
The bigger the issue, the smaller you write. Remember that. You don’t write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid’s burnt socks lying on the road. You pick the smallest manageable part of the big thing, and you work off the resonance. — Richard Price
