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Her hair was perfect. Like, so perfect that if she would have to sell it to buy him a present, she would have a lot more than just twenty
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If inanimate objects had the power to think, act, or speak, this particular 5 dollar bill would probably be at it wits end, feeling extremely awkward and out of place in its incredible finish and straight posture, trapped among torn, dirty, foreign notes hurling obscenities at each other.
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Hello, dear old friend. Even after so many years you never fail to marvel me through your surprising change of attire at the transition from day to night. We are no longer strangers, not after the countless sleepless nights we shared, though sometimes I cannot help wishing
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I walk with my head hung low, my eyes fixated on the gravelly sidewalk, and though I don’t look, I can feel their gazes sting on my
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My dear Nightingale, today I set you free.
This phrase I had repeated incessantly in my head without being able to voice it, and now that I have completed the feat, I regret my decision of not letting it out earlier.
