It felt nothing like Christmas.
The snow was grey from asphalt and mud and dirt. The sky was dreary and dark and sad.
And you weren’t here.
I just hoped that you were enjoying yourself, wherever you were. I just hoped that you were happy. I just hoped that you were thinking about me.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
YOU ARE READING
Nicotine
Short StoryAbout a boy who smokes, And a girl who doesn't want him to, But mostly about how she seems to save him. © by Sydney Druckman 2022. Early matters subject to change.
