Boyfriends, she’d decided, were like seashells. Every once in a while you found pretty one to put in your pocket, but most were broken, some were sharp, some had a bad smell.
Words of effing wisdom.
Boyfriends, she’d decided, were like seashells. Every once in a while you found pretty one to put in your pocket, but most were broken, some were sharp, some had a bad smell.
Words of effing wisdom.