Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time.
"Peeta?" I called out as I closed the door behind me.
No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta.
Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . .
I saw the book we started out together. The book about our Games, our stories. It was open on a blank page--or at least, on what was a blank page before Peeta started on it. I could make out the slight traces of a drawing. A dress I had worn before, the one that Cinna had turned into a mockingjay costume before the entire Panem.
My wedding dress.
Suddenly, I knew why Peeta abandoned this task. I frantically whipped my head around, searching for any sign of him. Finally accepting the fact that he wasn't anywhere around, I ran out of the house.
"Peeta! Open up!" I pounded on his own door.
Without waiting for an answer, I flung the door open and looked for him inside the unlit living room. I could just make out the outline of his huddled figure by the fire-less furnace. He whimpered and hugged himself closer.
Tears started streaming down my cheeks. He was in that world again, alone and scared. I wanted to reach out and hold him but I knew it was not what would help him. Like what I had always done before, I sat on the floor just inside his door and waited. I cried with him, felt my body shaking and folding on its own.
It was some time, hours maybe or even an entire day, before everything was quite inside Peeta's house. Maybe I had fallen asleep on the floor because the next thing I knew, Peeta was silently shaking me awake.
"Katniss?" he called out softly, his gentle hands on either side of my face.
"Hmmm?" I stirred and then suddenly was jerked away by the fact that Peeta's bout was over. "Peeta? Peeta? Are you okay?"
"Hey, hey," he pulled me up with the same gentleness that he had woke me with. "Sorry."
"What for? You shouldn't be saying sorry. I . . ." I wanted to say I understood. But I didn't. I couldn't ever. Rather than continue in what I was saying, I tentatively stepped closer and pulled him into my arms.
I felt his arms go around me, with much more certainty, and I hugged him tighter, never wanting to let go. Dreading, actually, the fact that I had to let him go in a while because he might succumb again. But just that moment, while he was still my Peeta, I held him tight as I could.
Maybe this was all we could have together. The past, the moments of the present, and a very unsure future. I hated how things were said to be freer but I felt more trapped. We never would lose this battle that we were facing even after the war had died out.
But as long as we had each other, as long as Peeta could hold me and I could him, I could never let my fears get the best of me. I had battles to face and I knew I could win this out someday--with Peeta.
9.21.2012
6.22.2012
Coming home
"Never!" Her father shouted so loudly every bit of frame hanging in their living room seemed to shake.
Oliva was scared. Her name had just came out of the Reaping. She was allowed an entire afternoon with her family. One last afternoon with them. Good thing they were members of the more affluent districts in Panem. At least, there were parts of this whole thing that they are exempted from.
Still, Oliva was scared. She was smart and cunning and fast. But those kids that would be thrown in with her were just the same. Actually, they were better--they were lethal. They could handle knives and swords like they were born with it.
"Maybe . . . Maybe we could swap. Amarina. I know she wants her daughter to fight this year. She even bragged about how she thinks the child would volunteer today." Oliva's mother was beyond console.
"Mom. Dad. Enough." At last, Oliva found her voice.
"But Oli. You can't . . ." Her mother pleaded, reaching out a hand to touch her cheeks.
Oliva avoided her mom's touch, which could just as easily release the tears she was fighting hard to keep from flowing.
"I'm ready, Mom. I want to go."
"You're not going," her father replied. "I'll go and talk to everybody who owes us. I'll make them send their kid in your place instead of paying us."
"Father!" It was a horrific idea. "I'm going! I'm smart enough. I could win!"
"Yes, honey. You are smart enough. But those kids? Districts 1 and 2? Even those two unsuspecting tributes from 12? They look way ahead of you. Think about it, Oliva. You never had training." Her father was already pleading, begging her.
But Oliva's mind was set. Scared as she was, she could never bear the idea of having people talk about her and her family if she allowed her dad to do what he said he would. She could not help but shudder at the thought of sending some other girl in her place when she knew no one actually wanted to. Not one of them even had the courage to volunteer for her earlier.
Oliva did not want her parents to become just like the Capitol.
So she had made a plan. A slightly formed and totally weak form of plan to make her last throughout the entire Games. If she was careful enough, she could even win.
But if she was not and it came to the point where she would inevitably face combat, she knew what she would do. And that was to make sure her parents would not feel the pain of watching some other kid draw her blood, beat her to death.
She would come home in one piece. Not mutilated. No blood.
That last conversation played in Oliva's mind over and over ever since she saw Thresh's face in the night sky. Four. They were down to four. The only remaining Career boy was a good fighter. The boy from 12 was protected by his partner. And that only other girl. The one from 12. For some reason, Oliva did not want to end up in combat with the girl. She had to find a way to get out of their way before the finale.
Oliva kept on moving. She had no direction anymore. The others could be anywhere so taking a strategic path would be next to useless. After quite a few hours, she set up a mat of leaves to rest on. And then she heard them.
They seemed to be arguing. Oliva hid under a neat bush and watched the tributes from 12 separate ways. The girl had in her hands a loaded bow. She looked like she was hunting but if for food or for a tribute, Oliva was not sure. The boy, meanwhile, set out to scour bushes probably looking for edible berries.
Some more minutes passed and the boy had gathered enough roots and berries but the girl had not yet returned. He set down their pack, looked around and when he seemed decided that she wasn't returning yet, went back to gather some more.
Oliva quietly slipped in to take a look at what the boy had gathered. She saw cheese and could not resist the urge to pick at it. Just as she was enjoying the melting sensation in her mouth, her eyes caught sight of the berries. Purplish black ones she had not seen in a long time. The very ones that she had looked for in the days she had wandered around the Arena.
Nightlock.
She picked out some of them and held them in her hands. Oliva remembered the alternative ending to her plan. This could only be a sign that she was on the right path. She looked up, hoping that her parents were watching, and walked away in case the two tributes came back.
"Mom. Dad. I'm coming home."
Oliva raised the berries to her mouth. A cannon fired and just like that, Foxface's body was shipped back to her home.
*** Because I totally agree with the theory that Foxface knew what the berries were for that day she stole them from Peeta . . .
Oliva was scared. Her name had just came out of the Reaping. She was allowed an entire afternoon with her family. One last afternoon with them. Good thing they were members of the more affluent districts in Panem. At least, there were parts of this whole thing that they are exempted from.
Still, Oliva was scared. She was smart and cunning and fast. But those kids that would be thrown in with her were just the same. Actually, they were better--they were lethal. They could handle knives and swords like they were born with it.
"Maybe . . . Maybe we could swap. Amarina. I know she wants her daughter to fight this year. She even bragged about how she thinks the child would volunteer today." Oliva's mother was beyond console.
"Mom. Dad. Enough." At last, Oliva found her voice.
"But Oli. You can't . . ." Her mother pleaded, reaching out a hand to touch her cheeks.
Oliva avoided her mom's touch, which could just as easily release the tears she was fighting hard to keep from flowing.
"I'm ready, Mom. I want to go."
"You're not going," her father replied. "I'll go and talk to everybody who owes us. I'll make them send their kid in your place instead of paying us."
"Father!" It was a horrific idea. "I'm going! I'm smart enough. I could win!"
"Yes, honey. You are smart enough. But those kids? Districts 1 and 2? Even those two unsuspecting tributes from 12? They look way ahead of you. Think about it, Oliva. You never had training." Her father was already pleading, begging her.
But Oliva's mind was set. Scared as she was, she could never bear the idea of having people talk about her and her family if she allowed her dad to do what he said he would. She could not help but shudder at the thought of sending some other girl in her place when she knew no one actually wanted to. Not one of them even had the courage to volunteer for her earlier.
Oliva did not want her parents to become just like the Capitol.
So she had made a plan. A slightly formed and totally weak form of plan to make her last throughout the entire Games. If she was careful enough, she could even win.
But if she was not and it came to the point where she would inevitably face combat, she knew what she would do. And that was to make sure her parents would not feel the pain of watching some other kid draw her blood, beat her to death.
She would come home in one piece. Not mutilated. No blood.
That last conversation played in Oliva's mind over and over ever since she saw Thresh's face in the night sky. Four. They were down to four. The only remaining Career boy was a good fighter. The boy from 12 was protected by his partner. And that only other girl. The one from 12. For some reason, Oliva did not want to end up in combat with the girl. She had to find a way to get out of their way before the finale.
Oliva kept on moving. She had no direction anymore. The others could be anywhere so taking a strategic path would be next to useless. After quite a few hours, she set up a mat of leaves to rest on. And then she heard them.
They seemed to be arguing. Oliva hid under a neat bush and watched the tributes from 12 separate ways. The girl had in her hands a loaded bow. She looked like she was hunting but if for food or for a tribute, Oliva was not sure. The boy, meanwhile, set out to scour bushes probably looking for edible berries.
Some more minutes passed and the boy had gathered enough roots and berries but the girl had not yet returned. He set down their pack, looked around and when he seemed decided that she wasn't returning yet, went back to gather some more.
Oliva quietly slipped in to take a look at what the boy had gathered. She saw cheese and could not resist the urge to pick at it. Just as she was enjoying the melting sensation in her mouth, her eyes caught sight of the berries. Purplish black ones she had not seen in a long time. The very ones that she had looked for in the days she had wandered around the Arena.
Nightlock.
She picked out some of them and held them in her hands. Oliva remembered the alternative ending to her plan. This could only be a sign that she was on the right path. She looked up, hoping that her parents were watching, and walked away in case the two tributes came back.
"Mom. Dad. I'm coming home."
Oliva raised the berries to her mouth. A cannon fired and just like that, Foxface's body was shipped back to her home.
*** Because I totally agree with the theory that Foxface knew what the berries were for that day she stole them from Peeta . . .
5.28.2012
Grief Explained
Weeks after the funeral, they were all still grieving. George had stopped sleeping in their room and had taken refuge in the living room couch. Mr. Weasley always seemed to still confuse his once twins but if he was doing it intentionally to feel like he still had both, no one was sure. Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be grieving the most, still washes his son's clothes every week even if no one had actually the guts to wear them.
Harry watched all of this everyday. He was alternately guilty and pained. The little happiness he felt over having defeated Voldemort faded every day he watched the Weasleys mourn over their loss. He had began spending most of his days outside, flying in Ron's broomstick all over the place and trying to forget the worst inside the house.
It was in one of these days that Ginny found him, suspended in the air and hovering over the fields. "Do you not plan to go down for lunch?" she asked, looking down at the house.
"Hey there," Harry replied with a small smile. She was still radiant, Ginny. Even if the loss of her brother had taken most of the light out of her eyes.
"Mum's asked me to call you. Reckoned you'd be here, Hermione saw you take off. Come on down, Harry."
"Do you think they could ever forgive me? That you could ever forgive me?"
"For what? For saving the whole of the wizarding world? That's hardly a sin, you know."
"I didn't mean that. I meant being the reason for your loss. Every day, I think about all those times I could have stopped that brewing war from happening. I think about how I could have saved him. Or how I could have given all of you enough protection."
"We don't blame you for what happened, Harry. We could never do that. Without you, we might lose all of our lives that night."
"All of your sacrifices. I try to find every single way to repay them. But every single time, I seem to make you bear more sufferings."
"Will you quit that Harry Potter?!" Ginny shouted at him.
Startled, Harry turned to see her glowering at him. Her radiant face was red and her jaw was so set she seemed to have forgotten how to unlock it.
"Do you not realise how we were so close to losing you? Do you not know how we were so frightened of that? Mum, Ron, Hermione, me! We love you. Fred loved you. He was willing to sacrifice his life for you. We knew what we were getting into the day we accepted you in our family. We knew all the possibilities when we went to Hogwarts and decided to fight with you. And for your information, we wanted to help every bit as much for ourselves than for you! Now come down and eat with us!"
It was the first time Ginny spoke of those things. Harry was shattered. He started to fly back to the ground with all of Ginny's words in his mind. It's time to return all the favors. The Weasleys were his family already. He would grieve with them and show them everyday how much he loved them.
Harry watched all of this everyday. He was alternately guilty and pained. The little happiness he felt over having defeated Voldemort faded every day he watched the Weasleys mourn over their loss. He had began spending most of his days outside, flying in Ron's broomstick all over the place and trying to forget the worst inside the house.
It was in one of these days that Ginny found him, suspended in the air and hovering over the fields. "Do you not plan to go down for lunch?" she asked, looking down at the house.
"Hey there," Harry replied with a small smile. She was still radiant, Ginny. Even if the loss of her brother had taken most of the light out of her eyes.
"Mum's asked me to call you. Reckoned you'd be here, Hermione saw you take off. Come on down, Harry."
"Do you think they could ever forgive me? That you could ever forgive me?"
"For what? For saving the whole of the wizarding world? That's hardly a sin, you know."
"I didn't mean that. I meant being the reason for your loss. Every day, I think about all those times I could have stopped that brewing war from happening. I think about how I could have saved him. Or how I could have given all of you enough protection."
"We don't blame you for what happened, Harry. We could never do that. Without you, we might lose all of our lives that night."
"All of your sacrifices. I try to find every single way to repay them. But every single time, I seem to make you bear more sufferings."
"Will you quit that Harry Potter?!" Ginny shouted at him.
Startled, Harry turned to see her glowering at him. Her radiant face was red and her jaw was so set she seemed to have forgotten how to unlock it.
"Do you not realise how we were so close to losing you? Do you not know how we were so frightened of that? Mum, Ron, Hermione, me! We love you. Fred loved you. He was willing to sacrifice his life for you. We knew what we were getting into the day we accepted you in our family. We knew all the possibilities when we went to Hogwarts and decided to fight with you. And for your information, we wanted to help every bit as much for ourselves than for you! Now come down and eat with us!"
It was the first time Ginny spoke of those things. Harry was shattered. He started to fly back to the ground with all of Ginny's words in his mind. It's time to return all the favors. The Weasleys were his family already. He would grieve with them and show them everyday how much he loved them.
5.07.2012
First Choice
I was running and running like I had never run in my life. It's as if my entire life depended on every step I take regardless of the direction it was headed. I could still hear the sounds of the cannon even if I felt like I was already worlds away from the Cornucopia. The raging shouts of the killers were mixed so well with the agonizing screams of their victims. I kept on looking behind me for signs of any pursuer and thankfully, none had paid enough attention yet--not that I thought there would be any of course.
After what seemed like years, I stopped behind a large a tree trunk. I patted it carefully for any deadly sap or pins and, when I was quite sure it was safe, collapsed against it. Like I said, I ran like I had never done before. My heart was pounding angrily against my chest, my blood rushing to my brain like a burst of ocean waves, and both of my legs were numb. I was so tired I could actually drop dead from it any minute now. But I could not.
I wondered where she was already. Ten seconds into the plate and I knew what she was thinking of when her eyes widened at the sight of the bow and arrow. I glared at her, willing her to look at me. She did, thankfully. I shook my head ever so slightly and I was glad that I gave her that distraction. She could kill me right there because I took her away from her most precious friends but I saw Glimmer was already headed for it and I could not risk her like that.
As my body was already screaming wildly, I had to find a bunch of leaves to hide under and rest for quite a while. There were so many trees but my heavy body would not allow me even a feet away from the ground. So I settled under a neat bush surrounded by smaller trees. It was growing dark after all and the place had gone more silent.
Snap, snap. The sound of breaking twigs and crackling dried leaves alerted me. Damn, I slept. Barely a couple of hours inside the arena and I was already letting my guard down. Thankfully, the bushes kept me well hidden. I wondered how many times I would be using the word "thankfully" from now on.
"I lost her! I was at her and she slipped away!" I heard a girl's angry voice whine.
"We'll get her again, Clove. The arena could not be this big. She's out here somewhere, hiding," a boy's assured drawl replied.
"Yeah, Cato's right. She ran so she might not really be up for a good fight. Taking her down should be easy." Another girl's voice, more thrilling.
"Just find her already, alright?" A second boy's bored tones.
My body froze more and more as the voices multiplied. I wondered how many there were. But no one else followed so I assumed there were only four. Four. Two from each deadly district. They could be the only ones making alliances this early in the game. And who was that girl they were talking about that they were so desperate to find and, I shuddered at the thought, kill?
"Katniss, crazy name. Who would name their kid Katniss?" the whining voice, Clove's, spat bitterly.
"Whatever her name is will be forgotten already once her face shows up at the sky any night from now," the second boy's bored voice was shot with excitement.
I trembled so badly I knew the bushes could be moving along with me. Katniss. They were talking about her. They were talking about finding her. About killing her. I could not stop myself from shaking.
"Who's there?!" the first boy, Cato, shouted. Alert.
It was now or never. And I had to decide fast. Katniss . . . My first ever choice inside the arena.
"You wanna find her? Maybe I know how to . . ." I said, revealing myself under the bush. I grinned at them in the most menacing way I could. My hands were still shaking so I folded them behind my head.
"I'm Peeta. Her lover. Remember?"
After what seemed like years, I stopped behind a large a tree trunk. I patted it carefully for any deadly sap or pins and, when I was quite sure it was safe, collapsed against it. Like I said, I ran like I had never done before. My heart was pounding angrily against my chest, my blood rushing to my brain like a burst of ocean waves, and both of my legs were numb. I was so tired I could actually drop dead from it any minute now. But I could not.
I wondered where she was already. Ten seconds into the plate and I knew what she was thinking of when her eyes widened at the sight of the bow and arrow. I glared at her, willing her to look at me. She did, thankfully. I shook my head ever so slightly and I was glad that I gave her that distraction. She could kill me right there because I took her away from her most precious friends but I saw Glimmer was already headed for it and I could not risk her like that.
As my body was already screaming wildly, I had to find a bunch of leaves to hide under and rest for quite a while. There were so many trees but my heavy body would not allow me even a feet away from the ground. So I settled under a neat bush surrounded by smaller trees. It was growing dark after all and the place had gone more silent.
Snap, snap. The sound of breaking twigs and crackling dried leaves alerted me. Damn, I slept. Barely a couple of hours inside the arena and I was already letting my guard down. Thankfully, the bushes kept me well hidden. I wondered how many times I would be using the word "thankfully" from now on.
"I lost her! I was at her and she slipped away!" I heard a girl's angry voice whine.
"We'll get her again, Clove. The arena could not be this big. She's out here somewhere, hiding," a boy's assured drawl replied.
"Yeah, Cato's right. She ran so she might not really be up for a good fight. Taking her down should be easy." Another girl's voice, more thrilling.
"Just find her already, alright?" A second boy's bored tones.
My body froze more and more as the voices multiplied. I wondered how many there were. But no one else followed so I assumed there were only four. Four. Two from each deadly district. They could be the only ones making alliances this early in the game. And who was that girl they were talking about that they were so desperate to find and, I shuddered at the thought, kill?
"Katniss, crazy name. Who would name their kid Katniss?" the whining voice, Clove's, spat bitterly.
"Whatever her name is will be forgotten already once her face shows up at the sky any night from now," the second boy's bored voice was shot with excitement.
I trembled so badly I knew the bushes could be moving along with me. Katniss. They were talking about her. They were talking about finding her. About killing her. I could not stop myself from shaking.
"Who's there?!" the first boy, Cato, shouted. Alert.
It was now or never. And I had to decide fast. Katniss . . . My first ever choice inside the arena.
"You wanna find her? Maybe I know how to . . ." I said, revealing myself under the bush. I grinned at them in the most menacing way I could. My hands were still shaking so I folded them behind my head.
"I'm Peeta. Her lover. Remember?"
4.21.2012
Five Seconds
It was not easy boarding that train. She had an hour to ready herself but up til the last second, she couldn't seem to bring her entire body and soul inside her cart.
She waited. She had waited since early that morning to see if she would be stopped from leaving. She wanted to be stopped. But she never was.
She waited while packing her clothes. While she threw in two bottles of freshly peeled peanuts into her baggage, stowing it under several wool jackets so it would not easily break. Shards of broken glasses were difficult to repair. No, scratch that. They were impossible to repair.
Three minutes til boarding time. She had her head bowed, her eyes looking intently at her shoes. They were her most battered shoes. If they could just die, she would have buried them eight months ago. They needed new heels again. Maybe it was time to consider replacing them. But she loved those red shoes. They were from her aunt who had long since died.
God, she was rambling internally. Her thoughts were a jumbled set of puzzle pieces that never fit together. Her body a bundle of nerves that seemed to break little by little. She was tired of waiting and her sighs were getting deeper by the second.
Then she heard the announcement that the train would be leaving in a few seconds. She stood glumly from her seat by the entrance and walked toward the train with her head bowed. It was time.
At exactly sixty seconds later, the train was off to its destination. She was never coming back.
And at exactly five seconds after, he arrived. With a bunch of flowers (lilies, her favorite), a harassed expression on his face, and a ton of regret in his heart when he saw the train moving fast away from him.
She was never coming back. And he was exactly five seconds late.
Photo by: James Muspratt
4.05.2012
The Deal
It was one of the rare nights I was barely drinking. So you could just imagine my shock when I got the news full blast. Actually, it was just by mistake that I opened the television. They were done with choosing the dresses for the doomed wedding. Then Flickerman was doing the announcement for this year's Quell.
Damn place won't ever leave me alone, will it?
Before I was even able to shut the stupid announcement off, he was already knocking at my door. I knew he would come first. He always did.
"Oh good, you're not yet under," he said.
"Let's just hear your deal, boy" I grudgingly separated my hands from the bottle, eager to end what I knew would be a grueling conversation.
"You owe me, remember?"
"Owe you what?"
"You chose her"
"You already did even before the Games. I could've chosen you but you were plainly giving your odds away with all your Lover Boy ploys."
"I wouldn't do it any other way. But you did owe me, with all your lies that nearly killed me. Now it's payback time."
He's got point, you know. The kid knew how to drive his reasons. "So what do you want?" I asked.
"Definitely she's going back in. I want in. And just like last time, you would choose her." He was not asking for it. He was demanding in such a way that I knew there were no other options.
"Deal."
"Better shape up. We cannot pretend this is just another one of their Games. We both know what's happening. She's in more danger than ever and going back to the arena is just like walking into her funeral." Now, there was a hint of fear in his voice. This boy never acted, I'd always known that.
"Think I don't know that?"
"So get her out of there alive. Promise you'll really try, Haymitch."
"Swear it."
Just like that, he turned his back on me and turned the knob to my front door.
"You know I get this feeling she'll ask the same thing. In fact, she might be on her way." I told him.
He froze. Then a shrug. "I hope she does. Just so I know she cares, too. But somehow, I doubt that."
I never thought I'd see someone break into pieces as much as that boy had that time.
(I have always wondered how Peeta asked for this. And since I couldn't yet fathom his own emotions, I wrote this in Haymitch's POV. He's really deep, you know. He could do it.)
Damn place won't ever leave me alone, will it?
Before I was even able to shut the stupid announcement off, he was already knocking at my door. I knew he would come first. He always did.
"Oh good, you're not yet under," he said.
"Let's just hear your deal, boy" I grudgingly separated my hands from the bottle, eager to end what I knew would be a grueling conversation.
"You owe me, remember?"
"Owe you what?"
"You chose her"
"You already did even before the Games. I could've chosen you but you were plainly giving your odds away with all your Lover Boy ploys."
"I wouldn't do it any other way. But you did owe me, with all your lies that nearly killed me. Now it's payback time."
He's got point, you know. The kid knew how to drive his reasons. "So what do you want?" I asked.
"Definitely she's going back in. I want in. And just like last time, you would choose her." He was not asking for it. He was demanding in such a way that I knew there were no other options.
"Deal."
"Better shape up. We cannot pretend this is just another one of their Games. We both know what's happening. She's in more danger than ever and going back to the arena is just like walking into her funeral." Now, there was a hint of fear in his voice. This boy never acted, I'd always known that.
"Think I don't know that?"
"So get her out of there alive. Promise you'll really try, Haymitch."
"Swear it."
Just like that, he turned his back on me and turned the knob to my front door.
"You know I get this feeling she'll ask the same thing. In fact, she might be on her way." I told him.
He froze. Then a shrug. "I hope she does. Just so I know she cares, too. But somehow, I doubt that."
I never thought I'd see someone break into pieces as much as that boy had that time.
(I have always wondered how Peeta asked for this. And since I couldn't yet fathom his own emotions, I wrote this in Haymitch's POV. He's really deep, you know. He could do it.)
11.01.2011
By the Window
She wanted so much to get off that seat by the window. Heck, she wanted more than to throw away that chair.
It was at an antique shop that they saw the chair. She was instantly in love with it. The curve, the wood, the paint. Everything was what she knew would be perfect.
It was in that chair that she sat and looked out to wait for him. It was in there that she felt the excitement of seeing his car turn into their gravel driveway. It was in there that he would come up to her and give her a day's worth of hugs.
But things changed. He changed. They changed.
Now, she wanted nothing to do with the chair and the window and the gravel driveway and the black sedan by their garage. She wanted to throw them all out.
For now, no one would be using them anymore.
Photo by: Annette Pehrsson
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