Eighth Encounter

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Months become passing moments from that first day. I have his number known by heart, and he's even met my widowed father. He knows I ease my depression with food, and I've hinted the sadness oozing from his bruised wrist. But the sorrow is receding away... now that I have found solace in the blue depths of Willie's eyes.

He's my best friend, and summer is beginning. 

Not a Terrible Thing By: Audrey B. HolleyWhere stories live. Discover now