Annie straddles him in his car, parked in the old New England cemetery. He thinks of what the French…
Their nights together changed them forever. But sometimes there are do overs, no matter how hard one strives to create the perfect everlasting union.
A man reminisces about an affair he had with a woman two years ago and now resides 2,000 miles away. If he could just let go he’d be fine, really.
Kiki asks Leslie to join her and Amanda in a race to have sex with a member of the cover band. Leslie does and makes some decisions about life too.
She comes home looking angry, walking into the kitchen and stripping down to panties and stilettos, like she does this regularly.
Curtis finds himself consoling two women, but soon he’s no longer able to repress his response to death – and Curtis’s way of grieving is far more troubling.
These guys are faux-farmers, she can tell them a mile off. Selling ears of corn by the roadside in bulk wearing cologne and black poodle perms.
Questioning notions of how awake or asleep we are, and the conceit that is sometimes part and parcel with questions regarding love.
She’s never been in love. In thirty-three years, she’s never taken a meaningful risk. She’s just too damn practical.