dear wren,
i write to you today from the hospital bed.
i've had flu-like symptoms for a little bit now, and it really sucks. i'm really tired as well.
don't be surprised if i fall asleep in the middle of this.
so, you were explaining to me about how your little sister, maria, had cancer, just like me.
how she was the most amazing girl in the world. how you had insisted to shave your head after she felt insecure of her hair falling out. how you brought her mcdonald's every friday because it was her favorite.
i could tell you were about to start crying, so i took your hand and said, "come on, i wanna show you something."
i dragged you out behind my house to the small meadow where i used to spend much of my time.
we sat down and i told you to close your eyes.
"what's the purpose of this?" you said, confused but still on the verge of tears.
"i promise it'll help."
so those blue eyes disappear and your breath catches and you smile and i can tell you're thinking of the good times and i can tell you feel how i always feel when i come here.
i'm not sure what it is about that place, wren, but it makes me forget my problems. and you know what that reminds me of?
you.
i love you, wren. just wanted you to know.
-grace.
YOU ARE READING
leather jackets.
Teen Fiction| you were standing all alone in that leather jacket of yours that smells like cigarettes and moth balls. you still wear it, even though it's tattered and old. i think it looks lovely on you. |
