What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died?
What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died?
And then I did what I had never done in his presence, much less in his arms. I cried.
Either way I don't come first, which for some stupid reason bothers hell out of me, having grown up with the notion that I always had to be number one. Family heritage, don't you know?
I was afraid of being rejected, yes. I was also afraid of being accepted for the wrong reasons.
Please, if one of us cries, let both of us cry. But preferably neither of us.
The pain of not knowing what to do was exceeded only by that of knowing what I had done.
There was a brief silence. I think I heard snow falling.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories