She thought that love was hidden in a shot glass, the shattered squares of disco balls or 3am cab rides. Purple and explosive, always that belly-churning, gut-wrenching need.
Turns out love is stepping out of parties, into the November air that kisses your bare skin, reminding you how to breathe.
Rachel Canwell wrote this story.
Great job. Evocative
Great use of each word! Very thought provoking….
Beautiful and brilliant piece!