Falling For Your Madness
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Eccentric literature professor David approaches Laura for a counter-cultural, rule-filled relationship filled with poetry, flowers and bottom-less cups of tea. He makes it very clear to her that they are just friends. If she wants to be more -- if she wants to be sweethearts -- then she is the only one that can move them forward. Laura is smitten by his humor, his charm, and his English accent (which turns out to be fake). In his company, she has never felt more beautiful or ladylike. David tells Laura that the reason he has these rules is because he is bound by the laws of chivalry, both body and soul. Then Laura finds out the real reason, one that's ancient, filled with legend and magic. Yet Laura has complete control of this madman. Should she release him or tell him she wants more? Is he eccentric or just mad? Falling For Your Madness is not just a romantic comedy, but it also asks the question, who has the most power in a relationship? The lady? Or the gentleman?
is he?” “No. He wanted to come. I talked him out of it.” “He doesn’t seem like he’s easily persuaded.” “No, he isn’t. I turned him into a hamster. I’ll change him back when I return with his shoe.” Merle looked like he was serious. “You’re both completely mad.” I could picture a hamster, with curly black hair in his eyes, in a tweed jacket and ridiculously large Italian shoes. If David ever asks for another drawing, that’s what I would do. If. “Here are his shoe and sock.” “He’ll ask me what
and came right to me. “Good evening! How lovely to see you. Would you introduce me to your friend?” I had a hard time finding the right words. “This is Trey Landon. Trey, this is my friend, David Bowles.” David put down the bag and extended his hand to Trey. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, sir.” “Nice to meet you too.” Trey took my elbow. But I wasn’t ready to go. “David, your head. Are you feeling okay?” “Never better. It’s Saturday night. I’m on my way to fencing.” “With your shoulder?”
was not successful, so therefore we were not mugged.” “You were mugged?” Trey was surprised. “Not mugged.” “Because David scared him away! You should have seen it. He kicked him in the leg, headbutted him, and punched him in the face. All of that was after he got stabbed! It was amazing! The mugger went off running off with a limp.” David winked at me. “Did he? I don’t remember that part. I do remember the sidewalk spinning.” I caught myself glowing at David. I was still angry with him. And
and orange there, even in a completely urban, concrete-and-aluminum neighborhood like Julie’s. I tried to stop, as my Dad had taught me, to savor little bits of life or light or magic or whatever it was that created inspiration. This was a good night for that. I wished I had brought my pencils with me. A drawing would have made a good distraction, too. It was a warm night. This was the last weekend, I thought, that I could wear my favorite cotton dress, the one that I felt especially pretty in. I
saw me and didn’t even try to hold the door open.” “What an unchivalrous oaf. Point him out to me. I shall run him through with my blade.” David’s eyes lit up like they were on fire. He had these little moments of passion, of maybe obsession or excitement, that created a spark. I couldn’t draw it if I tried, and I didn’t think it could be photographed. I knew that not everyone had this kind of passion. But I liked it when I saw it in him, and I wanted to see it again. There was no way that I was