The Rain Increases And Umbrellas Sprout Like

Only The Ship Is Made Of Books, Its Sails Thousands Of Overlapping Pages, And The Sea It Floats Upon Is Dark Black Ink.

I Do Not See As Well Without Her. I Do Not Hear As Well Without Her. I Do Not Feel As Well Without Her. I Would Be Better Off Without A Hand Or A Leg Than Without My Sister.

I’ve Missed You,” He Whispers Softly. The Air Between Them Is Electric As He Leans In, Gently Brushing His Lips Against Her Neck. In The Next Room, The Guests Complain About The Sudden Increase In Temperature. Fans Are Drawn From Colorful Bags, Fluttering Like Tropical Birds.

And There Are Never Really Endings, Happy Or Otherwise. Things Keep Going On, They Overlap And Blur, Your Story Is Part Of Your Sister's Story Is Part Of Many Other Stories, And There Is No Telling Where Any Of Them May Lead.

Before You Leave, The Fortune Teller Reminds You That The Future Is Never Set In Stone.