Love
She always left when it rained. AI-Generated.
Title: "She Always Left When It Rained" I still remember the first time I saw her. It was raining—not heavy, but that kind of slow, thoughtful rain that clings to your skin like it’s afraid to let go. She was standing on the platform, hands buried in the pockets of a too-large coat, her hair wet and stuck to her face in dark strands. She looked... elsewhere. Not just physically, but mentally. Like she was halfway between here and someplace I’d never be able to follow.
By Victor Strikabout a year ago in Fiction
Missing You
So maybe signing on for a work trip in New York wasn’t my best idea. I really didn’t do it because of Seren. I just thought that maybe if I ran into her while I was here, it would be fate. Or maybe just seeing a glimpse of her would settle the weight that had been in my stomach since we broke up. The first few days I focused on work. I didn’t think of her. I stayed mostly in my hotel room and only ventured out for food. But today is a free day, and I find myself at places I think she’d like. Like my soul is trying to pull me toward her without my knowing. I get lunch at an Italian restaurant that specializes in vegetarian cuisine. She doesn’t eat meat. I sit on a bench in the park with absolutely no shade in sight. She loves the sun. I walk past and through bookstores, wandering aimlessly. She says books find a direct line to her soul.
By Raine Nealabout a year ago in Fiction
Find me in the gold.. Runner-Up in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
She can still see me. It’s rare, but on occasion, she can still see me. When she does, it comes in glimmers of light and shadows, the way water reflects off the bottom of a pool, but every so often, she can still see me. My friend. My real, living, breathing, atoms and molecules shaped into the body of a real girl, friend. When she does, when she sees me, the electricity courses through my entire being. The joy of being seen literally electrifies me, and sometimes it makes the lights flicker, and I know she shrugs it off as a power surge or something else as equally rational of an explanation. This is what always happens, as they grow up, but I was hoping this time it wouldn’t. She was the girl I loved the most.
By Morgan Longfordabout a year ago in Fiction
Gossamer | 404
The fog had teeth. An ominous shroud covering the part had once been filled with joy and hope. It curled in slow, deliberate coils over the cracked asphalt, swallowing signs, trees, and silence itself. Through it, a gate emerged, half rust, half memory. The letters once read “Kaufman Amusements,” but now only a few remained, crooked and glinting.
By M.R. Cameoabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Second Beginning"
Lydia never looked back. Her life had always been a series of departures—jobs, cities, lovers, hairstyles, philosophies. She had a particular talent for starting over, for making the past seem like a chapter written in disappearing ink. Her strength wasn’t in endurance—it was in escape. But somewhere between the lines of her boldness, between the ink stains of reinvention, she carried something unresolved. A haunting in the ribs, a whisper beneath the skin.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Fiction
A Love Written in the Stars
The New Beginning In the quiet town of Eldridge, nestled between rolling hills and whispering pines, Riverside High School stood as a beacon of learning. It was here that Aria Bennett, a young English teacher with a passion for literature, began her first teaching job. At twenty-five, her hazel eyes sparkled with dreams of inspiring young minds, her auburn hair always tucked into a loose bun, and her smile carried a warmth that made even the shyest students feel at ease.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
