os in the morning； with cake。
Death by chocolate。
You kill me； you really do。
And I’ve been alive too long。
Dan hurriedly set the mug on the dish drainer so he could write down the first few lines。 He sank down onto the couch and picked up his notebook。 As he started to write； he heard keys scraping in the lock。
“I’m home！” A female voice echoed through the apartment as the door creaked open。
Dan blinked and his breath caught in his throat。 So many times he’d imagined her： his perpetually black…garbed muse。 But now she was here； framed by the entryway。 Her hair had grown