by Frances Tate “And the dreams?” the psychiatrist asks. “Stopped,” I lie, won’t admit the rain still brings them on. Worse than ever. I drive home, wipers dancing. Cooking makes me feel better; a romantic meal for one. Italian. Plenty of wine. I go to bed feeling relaxed. Dream. I wake, soaked and shivering. […]
About Frances Tate
This author has yet to write their bio.
Meanwhile lets just say that we are proud Frances Tate contributed a whooping 1 entries.