Like Falling Snow_Quaint Correspondence_Junior_16 Years, 1 Month, & 3 Days Ago
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Like Falling Snow
Like Falling Snow Gavin MatthewCordelia Belle looked out through the train’s window, her forehead and afro pressed lazily against its clean cool surface. Kansa City’s Union Station looked peaceful covered in snow. The morning rays would make an effort to dissolve the blanket of white powder, but the December chill would prove to be too fierce. A cold breeze had warded off all the on-lookers and well-wishers, leaving the station abandoned except for a handful of workers. The blowing gusts made themselves known as they rushed against the waiting train. Cordelia tightened her coat, a furry velvet...
Quaint Correspondence
Walking home, the boy pulled up his mask as a gust of cold air smacked him in the face. His backpack felt a lot heavier than when he left, but nothing had been added to his collection of papers and doodles. He discovered that it was rather difficult to keep pursuing his art degree in all this chaos. Jeremy, for a long time now, had pondered his artistic path. “Artists don’t study!”, he exclaimed to his favorite teacher in high school one time. She forgave him, but that event seemed to stain his relationship with Ms. Geeves. That class had taught him all the foundational theor...
Junior
TW: suicide Junior entered the house where he had grown up, not knowing what to expect. His father had committed suicide yesterday. The body had been discovered by the health care worker who visited him three days a week. Senior’s health had been deteriorating for the last year. Junior was not surprised that Senior decided to deny the grim reaper the pleasure of torturing him as he slowly lost control of his bodily functions. The fact that Senior had said as much in his suicide note affirmed what Junior had suspected for months. Both of Senior’s wives had died of cancer, and he had cared for t...
16 Years, 1 Month, & 3 Days Ago
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Thomas reached for my hand between us and squeezed it gently. That boy. He was always so gentle. That time it may have been because my palms were so sweaty, but nevertheless. I wondered if he could see my tremors. They felt so strong, like if I wasn’t careful, the entire STAPLES Centre would turn and look at me. But I was just being nervous, of course. I wonder brwww.onedoor.cciefly what I wouldn’t give to feel that same fear again.Of course, it’s just as likely that when he curled his fingers around mine it was because of who had just walked on stage. I recogniz...