First she stopped listening to him, because that was the hardest for both of them. No more conversations, no more comfort through words. Then, he stopped touching her. Or, when he touched her, she felt like he didn’t want to be doing it; it felt hollow and made her feel empty. So, she worked harder at ignoring him. She worked hard at caring for him less. She would not let...
“This is all I can give you,” he said, and it wasn’t enough for her. She knew before he even said it that those words were lingering in the air between them. The distance, the caution, the unwillingness to open up and really share a life. Not to mention being the dirty little secret after years of not being a secret. But as much as it hurts, it doesn’t touch...
She stepped up into the carriage, her nemesis, pimply Paul, holding her hand to steady her as she ascended the two bouncy steps and onto the bench. Immediately, she began smiling and waving to the crowds. The horses pulled the carriage through Main Street, and the children went wild, admiring her hair, her sparkling dress. Her fucking dress. The fabric was so hot, stiff and itchy. She was sweating her...
The girls were sleeping in two rows in the living room, tucked close together in their sleeping bags, but Mara was awake and staring at the thing hiding in the corner. It was blacker than black, darker than the darkness, and she couldn’t tell if it was moving closer to her. “Amy, Amy,” she smacked the girl beside her. “What?” “There’s something in the corner.” “What?” “Something is here with...
There was that time we were together and not together, when we shared space but not a life. I can’t forget how much it hurt the days I couldn’t touch you, and how sad it was to even smile at you, because I was crying inside. We’re never going to be friends now, you and I. If this ends, it ends. I can’t live in a world where you’re right...
