The death toll grew sexier by the minute.
"Jesus wasn’t even born on Christmas," the atheist said again.
She traded her body to check her email.
She ate all her cigarette butts.
It was the nineteenth flat stomach on the day.
She fastened his car seat before driving into the river.
He’d been waiting all afternoon to say it: “Oh this? Just a novel I’ve been kinda working on.”
She lifted her shirt to clean off his vomit. The plan worked.
She decided on the Sutro filter for the open casket.
Management added cages to the treadmill desks. Employees lauded the boost in security.