The spoon was her secret, when I stirred it below the rough milky surface that was her mind; a fortress my curiosity and desire could not penetrate.
He flew down the stairs, because he was the spirit of this morning, the wind that brought the rain, and he was the spring; the spring that melted the ice of yesterday’s storm. What kid wouldn’t be? It was Christmas morning.
She was a tigress, eyeing her opponents with a quiet fierceness. She could win this chess tournament, if her moves were thunder on the table, her reflexes lightning in the air, her strategy a midnight flood; you don’t know you’re doomed until it’s too late.
Answer:
It really is, I believe you
Explanation:
the answers are darkness and light
Answer:
Me: Excuse me?
Waiter: Yes please, how shall I help you?
Me: Can you please order some ( WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO ORDER)
and please get it as soon as possible!
Waiter: yeah sure! and would you like to check out our 'Today's special menu'?
Me: Of course!
Waiter: So, today we have (WRITE AN OFFER) would you like to get it?
Me: No thanks
Waiter: Ok so I'll get you your order as soon as possible. Thanks!
Me: Pleasure!
Answer:
"The narrator of the story "The Black Cat" can certainly be considered unreliable due to his alcoholism and his account of his sudden and drastic change in character. ... As the narrator becomes crueler, he seems to be unable to fully control his impulses or understand where his violent and ill-mannered behaviors stem from."
Explanation:
