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Peeling wallpaper, your amber hair. These are the things I remember. The scar on your wrist, the taste of chocolate cake on your bed, the little notes you left me.

There are a million words and a million sounds and I am making none of them. I a(more)
Aiden wished it was raining.  

He wished the weather would turn to something cataclysmic, that the sky would open up and truck-sized hail would fall from the heavens. Something to fit the day better than seventy and sunshine. Anything.

Verbena hopped the back fence, not pausing t(more)