"A dish is only as good as the recipe you follow and a relationship only as good as the strictures agreed upon," Denise told her husband, but he knew that wasn't strictly true. 

It sounded so amusing in his head before his tongue managed to mangle the bon mot so bad that it was more like a wilted word salad drowning in a thick dressing of malapropisms and bathos. 

 Every slight, every misstep, every missed opportunity came rushing back at 3 a.m. 

 In the heart of winter the dead vegetation retained a sacred beauty that rivaled summer's bounty. 

 He was known for never finishing anything he

 Her nights veered between nightmares and the crushing realities that swirled around in her head and prevented her from returning to said nightmares. 

 The wrapping is now torn and discarded like the anticipation of the moment that has so quickly ended.