Life is too short for boring stories

Unexpectedly, as so often, Mrs. Pospischil and Mrs. Navratil meet in the marketplace of John Q. Public City. However attentive Ms. Pospischil may be, she has seen the impending disaster too late and was unable to escape. Sighing, she succumbed to the inevitable

„You talk too much,“ you interjected, as I finally managed to draw between two sets of air, so that although I said the sentence before your throw to the end, but the one I wanted to follow, somewhere between will and act, vanished. Automatically, I thought, what that meant to me, if you meant that …


Christian felt that Martinique was in his arms, on this new morning. Her head rested on his chest and her calm breaths betrayed that she was still asleep. At some point he had come to her. At some point, they fell asleep. That’s how it was. Nothing else was necessary. He pulled her a little …


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