Love
Dreams
The memory of his embrace still lingers—I can almost feel the closeness of him. I even somehow feel a feeling of not wanting to let him go. I hold my breath, savoring the feeling before the moment breaks, and my alarm goes off, and again I wake up alone.
By Faith MaryEllen Caselmanabout a year ago in Fiction
Amaretto Sour
“God, this is exhausting”, I catch myself saying aloud, and down another shot the bartender unwillingly poured for me after waving a fiver at him. Someone laughs down at the other end of the bar, and I shoot them my best death stare, which isn’t saying much because I can hardly be mean to the fruit flies currently swarming my teeny tiny apartment kitchen.
By Tattoos & Tarotabout a year ago in Fiction
Butterflies in the Winter
Grace: "They say grief never goes away, it only changes." I can't tell you how many times I've heard that line. Even as I repeat it back to myself in times of spiraling affliction, it does nothing to calm the discourse. It only halts the inevitable chain of thought —a cycle that returns when I stub my consciousness against a distant memory. Even as the doctor desperately tries to help me navigate my loss, that proverbial saying is pointless, because nothing has changed.
By James U. Rizziabout a year ago in Fiction
Gone Boy
Orange, reds, and yellows seeped through the office windows and filled the room up. While memories of your tangerine shirt still linger on and I imagine your scent is here if I had any sense of smell. And I wonder if I fell asleep after a long day at the office.
By Lisa Pulliamabout a year ago in Fiction
Outline. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
How do you spell it? That jagged, tired word. He doesn't stop to think like I do. I open the door to find the hat box sitting quietly. A bleached rectangle where the mat used to be frames it on a make-believe little mattress. No sheet, of course. I'd read all the books.
By Mackenzie Davisabout a year ago in Fiction
📖 The Dress She Never Wore
Introduction: A Dress with a Dream She had dreamed of that dress since she was sixteen — ivory lace, hand-beaded sleeves, a flowing train that whispered elegance and grace. Every shimmer of the fabric told a story of love, hope, and forever. She imagined walking down the aisle, every eye on her, the world pausing for her moment of magic. But what happens when the dream doesn’t come true?
By Mahveen khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Those Eyes Cause Me So Much Trouble
I could spend hours watching you sleep peacefully. Yeah, I know it sounds creepy, but I can’t help it. There’s just something about the way you look as you lay on your bare stomach with the left side of your face on the pillow. Your eyes might be closed, but I can see your eyelashes through your brown hair that I keep saying needs a trim. If I look closely at your lips, I can see a small parting for breath in the middle. And oh my, your Cupid’s bow. I know it sounds silly, but you might just have the most perfect Cupid’s bow I have ever seen on a set of lips. It was one of the first things I noticed when I first laid eyes on you.
By Cat the Autistabout a year ago in Fiction
The Pursuit of Purpose
Evan sat at the corner table of the dimly lit coffee shop, his eyes flicking toward the door every few minutes. Two weeks ago, he had met Lila at a friend’s party—her smile, her laugh, the brief touch on his arm—moments he had replayed endlessly. He had texted her relentlessly since then, crafting witty messages and overanalyzing her brief replies. Tonight, she had finally agreed to meet for coffee, and his heart pounded with anticipation. Adjusting his shirt and checking his hair in his phone’s reflection, he rehearsed the perfect lines to charm her.
By Nauman Hassan Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
