Expectations led to a bunch of disappointments that he could frankly do without. But complications, those were different entirely. He liked the complicated and often made things complicated when they weren’t.
The coffee he usually bought, he made at the Maison. There was something about making something himself that always made staying at the Maison that much more special.
The thing about Georgiana isn’t that she’s been hurt, it’s that she wants to never be again. Isn’t that the case for everyone?
So, she decided to get to know the girl, to peel the mysteries off piece by piece so she too could yearn to live again.
She listened to Georgiana tell her stories about the failings of an older girl, the heartaches, the intangible pain, and watched the visible scars across the arms of an equally thin girl fade with time. Yet, they would always be there, Georgiana tells her.
Caroline Allen Caroline Allen liked to stare out of her window, her tea at hand and a cookie within reach. Her hobby consisted of two things: walking and reading. She often did both together, which has gotten a good share of laughs and mocking from her neighbors. They were cruel indeed, but she didn’t give …
Jill Jill owned her own antique shop, one that’s been passed on from generation to generation. She, unluckily, received it from her grandmother rather than her mom. Long story short, her mom along with her father left her. Left? Well, they didn’t exactly up and packed to go run away. They simply left, eyes closed and …
short story based on the world of Harry Potter. au where the heroes and would-be villains are together.The Tale of Juniper related story. Theodore Nott didn’t say goodbye because… Bianca Dinapoli sort of knew… He still loves her. For Jen25’s ‘I Don’t Love You’ Challenge in HPFF warning! Contains Profanity, Substance Abuse, and Scenes of Mild …
His hands were naked as they showed his unsteadiness and everything that he worked hard to drink away was displayed. He gave a million and one excuses as to why we could never paint together.
I let all the words I’d ever said stitch themselves together until I could flip through them like I was reading a novel. I saw it. The little things that were me seeped through my thin layer of clothes.
She looked at me from across the round table on the second floor of the library. She watched me continue to type. She waited for me to finish studying. She wasn’t attending school like she had planned. I was in college. She was unemployed. The bags under eyes mirrored that of my own, but deeper. Her eyes were dry and red. Everything about her seemed sickly. Ragged as she seemed, she still wore an ear to ear smile. She wore a long-sleeved shirt under a summer floral dress. And it was a habit. I showed her mine, and she showed hers.