By the time she yanked on her old jeans and a battered plaid flannel shirt, she felt almost normal. Calm, as she plugged in the coffee pot. But the nightmare was still very much on her mind, because it wasnβt a dream ... It was a memory.
I am gardening naked π π and my 25 year old neighbor is staring all the time again πͺππ₯΅β¦ i donβt care or shall I ask him to come over?