Fury Meets Weary

Angie climbed out of the red Corvette and grabbed her leather purse. Trying to picture what was on her calendar for the rest of the day, she hefted the two bags out of the back seat. The thump of the door brought on a smile that enveloped her face. Love this old time beauty.

Grace for Runaway Horses

You lost it again. Whether you actually raised your voice or not, the damage is¬†done. You slipped the reins of self-control and your bad attitude reared its ugly head. Like a wild stallion your piercing eyes, sharp tongue, body language broke their constraints and led the stampede of destructive words. Hopefully, realization dawns quickly. You…