My long, sheer maxi skirt flows behind me as I pace the halls outside of the armory, heart pounding in my chest as I jerk rapidly between fits of crying and numbness. There's something very, terribly wrong. Something happening inside me doesn’t feel right. I need him to fix it.
How doesn’t he understand that? Why can’t I find the right words, assembled in the right order, to tell him? At this rate, I doubt he’d care if I did.



Write a comment ...