It’s the same shade of red as her hair.
Plastered across the sky, mottled in amongst shades of blood and purple, ocean-blue and black. The clouds twist and bunch like her curls. A sea of silhouettes – trees, barns, houses, fences – march off into a russet horizon. The blue at the sky’s highest point is a dead-ringer match for her eyes.
God, I miss her.
Plastered across the sky, mottled in amongst shades of blood and purple, ocean-blue and black. The clouds twist and bunch like her curls. A sea of silhouettes – trees, barns, houses, fences – march off into a russet horizon. The blue at the sky’s highest point is a dead-ringer match for her eyes.
God, I miss her.
