А что может быть теплее, чем женское прикосновение?

Слишком часто врачи так увлекаются заработком, что забывают, зачем они вообще пошли в медицину - чтобы помогать людям.

"Однажды под соседским дубом я врезала ему в глаз, когда он заявил, что никто не захочет идти со мной на выпускной вечер в восьмом классе."

The official shakes his head; he’s sick of my shit. He turns the volume up on his iPhone and I catch a glimpse of his audiobook: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It’s ironic, and I can’t help but feel a kinship with Sirius Black—except instead of being locked away with thousands of soul-sucking dementors, I’ve only got one, and he’s currently staring at me.

His nose is no slouch either. “Are those lemon poppy seed muffins in the kitchen?”
I stare straight ahead, smack dab at his chest. “They’re for book club.”
“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t believe me. I’ve never been a group kind of girl and he knows it. “What are you reading?”
To call his bluff, I tilt my head and lock eyes with him. “A Game of Thrones. You remind me a lot of Joffrey.”

“Oh, and Lucas,” she continues. “I left some lemonade here for you in case you get thirsty.”
“Satan doesn’t get thirsty,” I mutter under my breath as I drag my feet up the front path.

Done. Finito. I will be free to write a new script. I will be Daisy Bell, gracious winner, beautiful taker-of-the-high-road. I won’t rub his face in it or gloat. I will just forget about him.
Dear God, please let me forget about him.

I know it’s just an act. Chivalry is dead. Lucas killed it.

“Those flowers are clearly a peace offering—”
“Oh please. They’re a warning shot.”

«А что может быть теплее, чем объятия человека, который готов сделать для тебя всё возможное?»