Tag Archives: grief
Hail Mary
Frostbitten fingers clung to the rusted out fire escape. She pulled herself up the side of the building, panting breaths pluming in the still winter’s air. Tears had frozen on her cheeks, and she could taste blood in the burn … Continue reading
Hopefully I Will Forget
A thousand thousand years from now, when this planet is ash and dust, uninhabitable but still adventurable, they will find us in a vast archaeological dig, looking for their own history. They will search, and they will find the ruins … Continue reading
Cold
It was November 18th, nine in the morning. It was cold where I was, and I was cold, but I couldn’t feel it. My eyes were open. Navy blue, but fading — not blue like his. They’d never be too-blue, … Continue reading
The Coat
It was getting cold again — the kind of cold that reminded her of what it had been like when she first arrived, falling in out of nowhere, into the life of someone who was gone now. Someone who might … Continue reading
There was never
There was never a bottle of Oban. The music box– He threw a coffee cup against the wall. “GodDAMNIT!” He wanted, more than anything, to make sure he was stable, to keep her safe. He walked in the door and … Continue reading