Dear Belladonna,
I remember walking up to you, scared you were going to jump. You only stood with your arms wide, long brown hair blowing in the wind. Just an infinitesimal push and you would have fallen off the edge of that cliff. You were so delecate, a glass rose. How could I strip you of your petals before you began to fully bloom?
-Hael
YOU ARE READING
Dear Belladonna
Short StoryDear Belladonna, I don't know why it happened then. I don't know why it is still happening now. It is as if I am reliving the final moment, again and again, locked away here. -Hael
