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That way lies death and ice. This way lies green swallows and blue trees. The other way lies a fire so hot you can't look at it directly. We're all mad here after all, aren't we?
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A year or two goes by and she forgets. She lingers over the tomatoes in the grocery aisles but doesn't pause at the orange cherry tomatoes the way she would have a year ago. Coos over the baby in the stroller but doesn't touch a hand to her belly. She swings through the park on the way home and doesn't - doesn't, can't - flinch at the sounds of ( Read more... ) -
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The weather is softening, the sun growing shy and the wind getting bolder. It's going to be a cold winter. Rug up in your boots and your warmest jumper, smile at your loved ones around a fire. It's going to be a cold winter. But Jack Frost is mischievous not cruel and there's always warmth to be found. -
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A distinctive thing about her is that for every scent, there is a memory. She walks past a tray of butter cookies and feels tears come to her eyes because once upon a time, a boy she loved baked her these and kissed her gently with cookies crumbs still on her lips. She presses her fingers to the leaves of a blueberry bush and remembers a time when ( Read more... ) -
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Do you want to know a secret ( Read more... ) -
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Take a chance. Go on, take a chance and lean forwards. You steal a kiss from the girl you've loved forever and a day and she smiles at you, gentle eyes the colour of the sea. You look at his hand clasped in yours and you see maybe-eternity but not really because oceans separate hearts and you know that time is fleeting. So take a chance, go ahead ( Read more... ) -
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You're the one to stay behind a few extra minutes, removing post-it notes from the whiteboard and putting away the forgotten paperclips. You wander behind the desk of your captain and wonder quietly at the coffee mug stain - so perfectly uniform, so round and discrete that you are surprised every single time. All you need is love, sings the radio ( Read more... ) -
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You settle into the towering stacks and it's a little bit nostalgic. You read titles by Enid Blyton and there is a small fluttering within your chest that tells you this is innocence. Baby's breath and bluebells and skirts with gingham patterns. Kazuo Ishiguro and Chaucer and Dante's Inferno and you wonder is that castle meant to mean something? A ( Read more... ) -
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He is long lines and a smile that goes straight to your heart. His hips move as if to music, broad shoulders filling out a red-checked shirt. You watch his hands flutter about with his words and you can't seem to concentrate on what he is saying because those fingers mesmerise. He's beautiful in the way you've only ever associated with sun-kissed ( Read more... ) -
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Belief is a powerful thing for us. As a child, you believe that the colour green is much better to draw with than red because green is the colour of sun-dappled moss, of that lovely dress you've seen your mother smile in. As a teenager you believe that smoking is cool, that lung cancer will never affect you because you're more than invincible, and ( Read more... )