Not Like A Heart, Which Let People

I Write My Novels Longhand. I Love The Feeling Of Writing; I Love To See Pen On Paper. It Feels More Creative Than Typing, And It's A More Visual Process For Me - I Can Picture The Entire Scene In My Head And Am Merely Writing What I See.

Elizabeth’s Hands Flew To Her Mouth; Tears Filled Her Eyes With Happiness As She Realized He Was Fulfilling Yet Another Of Her And Her Mother’s Intended Activities. “why Are You Fulfilling All Of My Mother’s Dreams?” She Asked, Studying His Face And Searching For Answers. “so You Don’t Run Away Like She Did In Search Of Them,” He Replied, Taking Her Hand. “come On, Join In!” He Said, Leaping Around.

And Nobody Had Told Them That They Were Short On Time.

Always A Chancer, Always Lucky, He'd Fall Into A River And Come Out Dry, With Fish In His Pockets.

She Couldn't Remember The Last Time She Hugged Someone, Really Hugged Someone.