January 9, 2008
The swore it. Children shouldn't

swear at all.

But a simple friendship wasn't

satisfying. They needed a false


And a manifestation of it. They worked

an entire summer on the tree


It would go in the tree in her

grandparents' yard. The one that

had the flowers like powdered

sugar surronding the winding


They calloused their small hands every

day until the face of the moon a

white fire drove them inside.

Only a few years later they passed each

other in a crowded hall with

nothing more than an awkward

glance between them.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback