Silence. The squish of spaghetti. Fork hitting plate. The sigh. Creak of pushed away chair. The match strike. Sear of flame. The plead. Shuffling of feet. The crunch of unsealed plastic. Muffled tears. The splatter of tossed strawberries. Laughter. The echo of that first summer. Quiet.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Posted by Christian Bell at 8:00 AM
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