Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
Tessa is staring up at me with her soft sky blue eyes, white swirls dancing like clouds in her pupils. Her tongue is wet with drool, dripping on my boots, but I could care less. I know she's overjoyed to see me, even if I've only been gone for a few hours.
I scratch her ears, which flap with the curl of my fingers as I remove my jacket and hang it up on the coat rack by the door. She's sniffing my jeans now, no doubt smelling Paris after our date to the movies. We saw this new chick flick, but I think I spent more time kissing Paris' lips than looking at the screen.
I walk into the living room and find my parents watching TV. I say hi before going into the kitchen to get Tessa a dog biscuit. She follows me in hot pursuit, licking my fingers which still linger with the taste of salty buttered movie theater popcorn. Her hot tongue tickles me and I command her to stop, catching her attention with a bone-shaped dog biscuit in my other hand. Tessa's eyes light up at the sight of it, and I throw it for her to catch.
I let out a petrified scream as I watch Tessa slide on the hardwood floors, her old legs locking in place as she slides down the dining room, unable to stop herself, inching closer and closer to the dining room table. All I can do is stand there with tears in my eyes and fear in my heart, wishing I could rush over and save her before she crashes right into-
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