I met you in Chicago. We instantly clicked over music and books. I got lost in your deep blue eyes and you loved my stories.
“Become a writer!” you told me.
“Me?” I questioned.
Years later, I’m writing from a different city while you are still in my favorite city; still encouraging me. I write more and doubt myself less.
“How’s the book?” The weekly query.
“Working on it.” The standard answer.
I’ll always be working on it.
“Love you.” The weekly goodnight.
“Love you too.” For the rest of my life.
About the Creator
Jen Jadick
Underemployed medical assistant for a posh orthopedic surgeon. I spend my days wondering "what if" and weave my thoughts into stories. I mean, what if that guy broke his arm jumping off his garage on a skateboard?
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Gravitational Pull and the Moon
"That's an amazingly astute observation. I couldn't have said it better myself." "Yeah, but like — just because I can reach that conclusion logically doesn’t mean I can feel it. You know? Like my emotions are on the other side of the planet from me. No, they're on the fucking moon, and I'm here, and my logic means nothing at all because I can't get myself to feel what I know, and there's no oxygen where my emotions live, and I'm suffocating."
By Mallory Rose7 days ago in Fiction
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