I didn’t want to be prideful anymore. I wanted to be as hard as and brittle as the stones I carted into the woods. Stones that could not feel or cry or see. I wished not to feel anything at all.

In no time, what I wished for, I became.

“Everything seemed slow, molasses slow, lovesick slow.”

“...a pretty little minnow...cool as rain, blue as heaven...”

“You watch teenage girls and feel shivers up and down your arms -- those poor cr…”

“I thought he knew me better than most...Then one nigh Jack brought me flowers, …”