Got this in my inbox today:

"The climate inside her, he had come to discover, was like springtime in the Midwest.
She seized him with panicky strength and pulled him into an upright sitting position. He worked his way out from under her like a man burrowing his way out of a snowpile. He saw her pulling her lip out, digging her short nails into its sensitive pink meat. The wagon was reversing down the driveway before he got his door all the way closed."

Hmm. What's the climate inside you?

This entry was posted on Friday, December 08, 2006 at 12:49 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.