"Talking to buildings now?"
Margaret stood across the street from it, coffee in hand, and regarded it the way a doctor regards a patient who has defied all medical opinion. It was a three-story brick building from 1887, originally a furniture warehouse, later a printing press, and for the last fifteen years, nothing at all. The windows were boarded. The cornice along the top was crumbling. A For Sale sign hung crooked in the overgrown yard, and someone had spray-painted a crude drawing on the plywood covering the front door. www tamelsex
Real life relationships are messy and often ambiguous. Fiction provides a safe container. We can experience the agony of betrayal or the terror of vulnerability without real-world risk. When a ends with a satisfying resolution—a grand gesture, a vulnerable confession—we experience a cathartic release of oxytocin. We feel loved, even from the couch. "Talking to buildings now