dad used to tell that story, the halcyon days of innocently creeping on women.
this dude ain't taking away my two cents. why, he poured enough spare change into my purse to replenish my supply of tuppence! he can crazymake all he likes, i'm out, finally.
but i will miss the babies more than i think i can bear.
a window to nashville is all the sad songs i need.
i meant to end with
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave!
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
but i ended with the admission of two for the price of one heartbreak; one of the babies really feels like i'm his mommy. daddy just isn't good to me.
doting and controlling are vastly different. did he think i wouldn't notice that medium brown bag was not from bloomie's?...