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It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.

Lisa McMann

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Lisa McMann
Age: 56
Born: 1968
Born: February 27
Author
Novelist
Writer
Holland
Michigan
Harsh
Word
Makes
Something
Intent

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A trapped soul waits for redemption. It waits. And waits. For her to take her last breath.
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That was the goth stage, where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention my hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.
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If you believe you can read you can
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But then you slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a guy it means she likes him.
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Cabel smiles and hangs up. Guess what. What, Janie says. We can go out on our first date. Woo hoo! And guess what else- You're buying. Me? Why? Because you lost the bet. Janie thinks for a moment. Punches Cabel in the arm. You did not fail five quizzes or tests! I did. I have proof.
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It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.
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They have an unusual relationship. And when things are good, it's magic.
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Whatever I want,' he says. 'Yes.' 'I'm afraid you haven't been privy to that dream yet.
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He moves like a dancer.
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You're asking for trouble, Hannagan, he growls. And you would be....? Janie asks. She giggles. Trouble.
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Oh baby, he whispers. Steps back. Out of the doorway. His face ashen. He walks slowly back to the kitchen. Leans over the counter. Puts his head in his hands. His hair falls over his fingers. The bathroom door clicks shut. She stays there for a long time. He's pulling his hair out.
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So, what are you doing tonight? Me? Janie laughs. Homework, of course. You want company? Carrie's looking wistful. Do you have homework to do? Of course. WEther I do it or not is the real question.
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Dreams happen in the strangest places. Watch for them.
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Janie. Does not like. To be called. Buffy.
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Janie calls Cabel. Hi, uh, Mom, she says. Cabel snorts. Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard? Yeah. Barely. Janie grins into the phone.
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The phone rings. “Asshole,” she mutters. She picks it up. “Will you let me explain?” “No.” She hangs up.
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The thought of being with Shay Wilder makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife
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Hippie said he couldn't stay. Be back tomorrow -Love,Mom
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Dreams aren't memories, he says.
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