It was, like most days on Tabula Rasa, beautiful out. That was one thing the island had going for it at least, blue skies and warm days, green everywhere. For a week, for two, Donna thought she would have enjoyed it. For thirty, it was a bit much. The time hadn't flown for her, as it seemed to for others. It had crawled by, day by day, hours ( Read more... )

Mailbox for Donna Moss