The broken doorknob hung pathetically off her screws outside the door. From the other side the weight her dilapidated state afforded her counterpart held him strong in place. You would never guess his partner was falling apart.

If the world fell down and hell was knocking at our door, I wouldn't care as long as you were with me.

Put your pen to paper and draw up your umbrella, or you will surely drown in a flood of ink from wasted inspiration.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” “I said I was sorry.” “And I said, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” “I don’t understand why it isn’t okay with you.” “…You’re still talking about it” “If it’s not okay with you I’m going to feel guilty about it.” “Good. You should.” “You just don’t want good things for me.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “That’s what it sounds like to me.” “You’re being selfish.” “Selfish? Then, I won’t do it.” “And now you’re being childish.” “I say I’m doing it and you don’t like that, I say I’m doing it and you don’t like that either.” “If you’re not going to do it, it shouldn’t be because you feel guilty.” “Why else wouldn’t I do it?” “I don’t know…obligations?” “That’s the same thing.” “A sense of duty…” “Still the same thing.” “No, it isn't! You should just know in your gut that it’s wrong for you to do it. Me, saying you shouldn’t, guilting you out of it, is not the reason you shouldn’t do it.” “This is going to be a good thing for me. You just don’t like it because it’s not good for you.” “Then, do it.”