I drove my mother’s car; A manual transmission, 1989 deep-purple Volvo station-wagon. I’ve been driving for ten miles. The kind of miles that take forever because you’re on a two-lane county road with frequent and unnecessary stop-lights for the majority of them. Trisha sat passenger. She knew this wouldn’t be a short drive. Through trail […]Read more "The Drive"
Being single in your 30s is kind of like being the only female in a seedy dive bar; you feel a little out of place. As some drunk guy stumbles out of the unisex bathroom with piss stained jeans, you think to yourself, “Maybe I should be somewhere else in life, somewhere more grown-up, classy […]Read more "I Don’t Love You, but I Love This Bar."