breakups
When it comes to breakups, pain is inevitable, but Humans thinks that suffering is optional.
Anything to Win Back Chloe
The cold, pouring rain seemed like an outward reflection of David’s feelings. At least the weather allowed for him to cozy up and wallow in his misery. Every night that week, he fought his way off a crowded subway car and dashed up the street to his apartment, huddled beneath his umbrella. As soon as he got home, he stripped off his damp clothes, got into his robe, put the tea kettle on, and sat by the window with the black Moleskin notebook he used as a journal. The journal had been his therapist’s idea.
By April Gardner5 years ago in Humans
Ameliorate
‘’That’s the difference between you and I, I was only part of your world, but you, you were my entire world.’’ The anguish building up at the base of my throat overflowed as tears gushed. The anger I’d been building in the last twenty-four hours subsided, only to be replaced with ache; with heartbreak.
By Jacklyn Casey5 years ago in Humans
Imprints
It arrived cocooned in a padded manila envelope. How many years since I had last seen that small black notebook? Before I even opened it, I could see the crimson berries, hear Jeremy’s voice: “Don’t eat them, Caddy! They might be poisonous.” He could never stop himself from warning me.
By Lindsey Joan5 years ago in Humans
Change of Plans
She made it onto the train just as the doors whooshed shut. Ben nearly made her late again, insisting that she stay and finish the fight. That was the last time he’d block the door so she couldn’t leave the apartment. There wasn’t anything there she wanted anyway, anything that was valuable she kept in the bag sitting next to her so that he wouldn’t pawn it while she was at work. She just wouldn’t go back. She had friends she could stay with.
By Maria Chapman5 years ago in Humans
The Beige Porsche
Standing on this bridge always had an effect on him. The cranes and superstructures of the port in the distance, the mist rising off the river in the gloom, and the muffled noise of traffic that seemed to dissipate into nothing when he reached the very middle of the span, where the water appeared to loom closer rather than further from where he stood. If he reached out a hand, it might be possible to wet it in the river’s inky thickness, wet it with the slowness and chill of fluid that seemed like anything but water.
By Rosanne Dingli5 years ago in Humans
April in Paris
I stare across the cute little café table while you fumble for something in your pocket. All around us shoppers and lovers stream past in this city for romantics and hopefuls. The sun is warm, the breezy a balmy promise, and the cherry trees lining the Champs Elysées are dripping with blowsy pink puffballs of blossom. April in Paris. It should be perfect, especially when I see what was in your pocket. A black velvet box, the kind that only holds one sort of ring. It should be perfect, but it isn’t.
By Kate Hewitt5 years ago in Humans
