Txt Album Minisode 3 Novels & Stories

On the way to our wedding, my fiancé got a hysterical call from his ex-wife. "Gavin, he's having another episode. He keeps crying for his daddy." This was the third time it happened. Each time we were about to get married, her son would have another psychosomatic episode. Gavin Grant looked at me hesitantly. I knew what he was thinking, so I nodded. "I'll get out. Go ahead." He clasped my hand gratefully. "I'm sorry, Vivian. I'll make it up to you." Before I could even steady myself, he was already telling the driver to turn around. Still in my wedding dress, I stood by the side of the road and hailed a cab. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from Gavin—he'd given me $100 million.

I was already on my third piece and Julian was on his fifth. "I'm glad you liked it." He said finishing his piece and wiping his mouth with a piece of paper. "You're very good at making sweets..." I said as I finished my piece, I was already satisfied. I finished eating and ran my tongue over my lips to savor each grain. I watched Julian's gauze fixed on my lips, I looked at his volume and he had been turned on by it. "Fuck...I want to kiss your mouth so bad right now." He whispered looking at me fixedly, as if he was going to devour me with his eyes.

Maybe that's why Lindsay told me to try pegging, not to experience it but to see the USB inside the d*ldo. "There are also voice recordings and document files. The file name for the document is "the ledger." "Shit!" I stood up. I can't hide how happy I feel. "Babe, I'll have my coworker get that," I said. "You're awesome, babe! If only you were here, I would kiss you." "You seem very happy. This thing is very important. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I don't remember either." "It's okay, baby. I'll have my colleague get it."

We are sorry for the trouble. Forty three more minutes. "Unbelievable," I say out loud. I did not mean to say it. And then something happens that has never happened before. He answers me. "It does this every third Wednesday. You would think they would text before you are already sitting here." His voice. I never thought about what his voice would sound like. I would have guessed wrong anyway. It is deeper than I thought. A little rough, like he has not talked all day. Maybe he has not. He is still looking at the parked cars across the street, but his headphones are down around his neck now. When did he take them off?

2 degrees Fahrenheit. I fumbled for my phone, intending to call for an ambulance. As it powered on, a deluge of messages poured in, all from Henry, reaching out from an unknown number, each text more anxious than the last, asking for my whereabouts. [Selena, why'd you block me? Why's your phone off?] [Wren mentioned you're overseas, is that for real? Did you really forget today was supposed to be our second 'I do'?] [Is it because of that mess with Melanie you're upset? It's all lies, babe. Can't we just cool off?]

Camilla Medilton I decided to just play games on my phone since Blane was talking and catching up with his friends on the side. I don't want to interrupt his time with his friends. He must have missed them so much and there's a lot of stories to tell. I knew it because I was like that too. I decided to stand on the side playing games on my phone or just chat with my friends. "Hello" I jumped a little and groaned because I died in Temple Run. I looked up to see a handsome black haired guy smiling sweetly at me

*** When I woke up, Johan was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and smoking. He heard me move and looked back. A check landed on the bed in front of me. I stared at it. He only said a few words. "I'm bored with you." Something inside me cracked. Like porcelain shattering, sharp pieces cut across my heart. Still, my voice came out calm. I even smiled. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" Johan frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place."

POV: Rhea Mooncrest "Do you feel that, Queen? The way the sky wants to break for you?" Silas stood at the mouth of the cavern, his scarred silhouette framed by a sudden, violent flash of lightning. The storm had come out of nowhere, a tempest of black clouds and screaming winds that tore through the Whisperpine Forest. Rhea stood deep in the shadows of the cave, her breath hitching as the thunder rumbled in her very bones. The Hex of Desire, amplified by the raw, chaotic energy of the storm, was no longer a dull ache; it was a rhythmic thrumming in her blood that demanded to be answered.

I have run that number through my head more times than I could count in the six months since, twenty minutes, such a small, ordinary amount of time, the length of a sitcom episode, the length of a commute, and somehow inside those twenty minutes an entire unrecoverable stretch of my own life had happened to me and left no trace behind except a body that felt, the next morning, faintly, uncomfortably different in a way I didn't let myself examine too closely until weeks later when a different kind of different made itself undeniable. I lay there in my bed now, seven months and a lifetime away from that basement, my hand resting against the curve of my stomach, and I tried one more time, the w

"The I'm-too-dead-inside-to-be-hungry-but-still-painfully-human look. Very Paris 1974." Noah let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "Did you rehearse that?" "I improvise. But thanks for thinking I'm the type to prepare." They leaned in the doorway for a second longer, studying him. "Everyone's broken here, by the way. You're not special. But you do have nice eyebrows, which is something." With that, they left. Noah lay back on the bed, jacket still on. The radiator hissed. The ceiling creaked. In the hallway, Emrys was humming something old and off-key.