Up on the hill, she sits on a rock, stares at the ground, and silently battles her demons.
Night is the best time to slip out. The air is breathable, the sidewalks are mostly empty, and the world is softer and more muted.
I miss out on a chance to reconnect with her, because a phone call seems like too much effort at the time.
He will fail in part because his parents don't care enough about his success.
All of the stuffed animals are wide-eyed. Some look gullible; others look stoned. A few have clearly peered into the heart of the universe and discovered the mysteries therein.
Romeo and Juliet embrace in the twilight.
They toss the baseball in an arc back and forth; it hits their mitts with a clop. Clop, arc, clop... like a metronome, keeping time at sunset.