Sausage Talk

She lives life without trying to.

Sure, she struggles. She’s human – her hair does that “imma fly off your head” thing. But she’s as real as they come.

She’s got sass that’ll transport you back to the days of Fresh Prince. Maybe it’s her Italian ancestry, maybe it’s that she’s figured out the Z snap, but I gotta say it – I like that I’ve got her in my corner.

Sitting with her tonight, overheating from all those bodies in that small space, she gently schooled me. I knew she had it in her, but I was still pleasantly surprised none the less.

Being wrong makes me happy. Change excites me. Learning and growing fuel the fire inside me. And tonight, she built my fire – carefully placing each log, allowing for air, and prodding when necessary.

Red wine cheeks, garlic olive oil, and black leather.
Voices swirled around us like thunder clouds ready to break.

She gives me security. She lets me in and isn’t afraid. She loves hard because that’s who she is.

We’re like the poster girls for old-school friendship bracelets. Getchyo’ orders in now people.


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