rachelaine
I was unable to comprehend what he had said. It took my breath away. I felt as if he had punched me in the gut over and over and over again, until I could no longer breath.
"Weeks", he said after I asked...
Ah... I hate fences. I hate how pointy they can be, or how tall, or how splintery.
I sit there, on my old, crooked wooden chair. It squeaks with every breath I take in. I think to myself how I ever ended up here. It reminded me of him.. I then felt a soft tear drop land upon my brittle hand.