I love to write, so it rarely seems like work - even when it gets arduous.

Don't get me wrong, I love literary fiction. It's faux literary fiction I can't stand.

Angie was where most of me began and all of me ended.

It's hard to close the door on optimistic expectations when you love someone.

But as the years passed, he missed her more, not less, and his need for her became a cut that would not scar over, would not stop leaking.

One that society can't forgive, but I can.