“Hand me the paint brush, would you?” she said.
As I handed her the brush, our fingers met, and a little zap of electricity ran through my body.
Did she feel that? No. She didn’t. She never does.
I pick up the paintbrush and don’t look back.
She likes to write about life and the feelings that go along with it. What can be seen can always be told.
I should leave.
The shouting, screaming, hitting…
I hate it! He plasters on a fake smile to fool everyone into believing in this facade, but he’s a monster.
What’s that? Is that the door?
“Honey I’m home!”
Oh, he’s calm. Arms slip around my waist. Strong arms, kind arms. “I missed you.” A kind voice.
I should stay.
Hope Chow is an aspiring author who was born and raised in America. She writes to paint a more lucid picture of life through the eyes of many others.