Took me three winters to finally get over you.

And there you are–in line at 40 Flavors Lickity-Split. I’d know that red braid anywhere.

Someone shifts their weight, and a cherub comes into view. He’s riding your hip.

I’m a cardboard bucket, my insides scraped out with a spoon.

Shoshauna Shy loves the word “nevertheless”, but wishes it had the counterpart “alwaysthemore.”