I heard that they tried as hard as they could but he just couldn’t let go of the past.
I heard that they tried as hard as they could but she was too insecure and jealous.
I heard it took them too long to figure out that no matter how much you love someone and want to make it work, life isn’t fair, and love is never enough.
This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: In 3 lines, start a rumor.
You should have taught us about debt and why we shouldn’t start using credit cards upon graduating high school when all those offers come in the mail, you should have taught us how and why it’s so important to vote in local elections, you should have at the very least taught us how to change a fucking tire.
You should have taught us to save more money and why it’s important to take better care of our teeth, how to file our taxes, and choose insurance without being swindled; you shouldn’t have sent us out into the world until we … Read the rest
Mix one part of staying home from work with taking two small naps and laying on the couch all day eating candy and junk food.
Blend well with exactly one gallon of tears and approximately 50 text messages to your best friend, without much comfort returned despite her trying, and then stir in a viewing of Bridget Jones’s Diary because she makes you feel better about yourself and more hopeful for life in general.
Apply liberally to the skin as often as necessary, take extra time to rub harder on the places where you’ll miss his touch the most – … Read the rest
The way you call me “babe”, the way you kiss the tip of my nose, how your left arm is always extended across the bed for me to curl into your side, how you hold me so my face is pressed into your chest and one of my hands rests between your naked thighs, how you rub my back so slow and gentle, how I feel so completely at peace in your arms in this bed.
How I don’t have to ask for you to take out the garbage or get the coffee pot ready for tomorrow, how you never … Read the rest
Washing the black VW Bug in the driveway on a hot summer day with gray, sudsy water pouring down my arms, my squeals of delight when my grandpa sprayed me with the hose.
Sitting on the dirty top of the work table in his greenhouse while he potted geraniums to sell to coworkers and neighbors, the feel of his hands over mine when he showed me how far down to press the seeds into the soil.
Hearing his breath hard and fast in my ear while he ran beside me holding onto the back of my bicycle, and that whooping … Read the rest
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