Charlie Merriman

From Hearing Her Voice

My head lay sideways upon the desk. The stains of red paint and pencil sharpening scattered across its surface lightly brushing my cheek every time I took a breath. My eyes gazed upwards towards the girl who sat beside me. Her eyes were iridescently beautiful. The tears she had once shed were still barely visible, yet I still found it difficult to believe that anything, or anyone, could have hurt this girl enough to make her cry. I closed my eyes.