Like those small, reject pieces on the edge of the pizza when it is cut into squares. She favors the reject pieces and nibbles those first with her fingers while scanning for the best middle piece to save for last.
It was her quirky simplicity that attracted the artsy types of men and the most sophisticated oddballs.
Tim was the oddest of them all.
He had never pitched a tent or climbed a mountain, but he sure did know a few things about survival.
His knack for striking up conversations with the old ladies in the grocery stores was once an admirable trait.
Until it began consuming most of his wednesdays, tuesdays and sundays after church.
Anna first noticed Tim in the parking lot near a Aunt Ida's bakery on the corner of 172nd and Tennista Ave.
She was jogging along minding her own heatbeat when she stopped to stare in his direction.
Tim was stunning. He was dressed as plain as the local folks but carried himself with great confidence. It was impossible not to notice his broad shoulders and light eyes.
to be continued