But don’t tell her she has a choice. Not when she’s half-wrapped around the big oak tree that got pulled out of the yard, the leaves in a whispery shake. The barky scratch as she holds on too tight. It started with her standing there heartsafe, her body a solid cottage. He turned towards her just a second too quick. And then she couldn’t run. Didn’t want to. Truth is, she hated the street always being the same kind of still all the time. Hated the front door never kicking itself in.
3/10/2020 05:59:09 am
Oh those silly people that stay for "love" and the drama. They lie in hospital mortuarys and gutters before they have even lived.
4/10/2020 05:07:57 am
Hate and the tornado stilled her forever. Good description.
4/10/2020 12:29:40 pm
So sad many women fall for the wrong guys, only to get hurt....
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