likefireworks
They pile up in long towers of manilla folders and fluttering corners around her desk, on her desk, on the shelves, in the corners, on the chairs. She edits and revises and reassigns until her eyes blur and the details no longer matter. Folders and papers and clacking keys and bumpy red lines beneath every. single. error.
there are flip flops and sandy beaches, long wavvy hair that no one bothers to style. days under the sun and boys that don't last past august and that "how i spent my summer" essay is really anything you want it to be. what happens in the summer stays in the summer, and no one really has to know.