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The man beneath me wriggles, calling me all kinds of choice names. His words are garbled through the blood pouring in and out of his mouth. Must’ve hit a lung. Whoopsie.
“My poor Jude. My poor sweetheart. And with that he starts to cry. For nobody has called him sweetheart.”
― A Little Life
― A Little Life
The Midnight Readers
— 8318 members
— last activity Jun 09, 2026 08:23PM
"Between the pages of a book is a wonderful place to be." -Unknown Hello! You're a night owl? And a bookworm too? Well, it looks to me like you've st ...more
m’s 2025 Year in Books
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