Eggs
Quilly | November 8, 2008
He cooked breakfast.
She smiled brightly, lifted her fork and poked her egg. It just laid there.
She poked it again. Nothing.
She turned the fork and cut her egg in half, then she looked up at her darling, charming, love. He watched with a small, sheepish smile curving his lips.
She queried, “Why is it that when I [...]
O’Ceallaigh & The Quill
