it was all she could do to keep from falling to tiny parts, tinking lightly as they hit the ground like broken christmas lights. she held her hands tightly to her chest and begged god to make these things easier. she traced the bruise on her left cheek and contemplated her father. her wretched insides stewed and rotted. her face fell into her hands as water leaked between her fingers. the french girl beside her whispered, c'est la vie.
what a bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment