The Taylor Swift Short Story Collection

debut: picture to burn

She pulled out the pile of notes and tshirts and everything he'd ever gotten her and brought it all to the middle of the yard, where the bonfire was already letting smoke rise above the line of trees that separated her yard from her neighbors. The pile was mostly handwritten letters they'd passed around during classes and left in each others' lockers and piles of photos from all their time together.

There was a series of photobooth pictures from their first time at the carnival that stopped in town every summer. They'd spent the whole day there, from the opening of the whole place to when the last attractions shut down for the night. He'd won her a stuffed animal at the balloon darts game (that little duck was somewhere in the pile of stuff at her feet, too; because it smelled like his cologne and she didn't want even that reminder of him).

One stack was devoted entirely to their prom pictures together: her in the royal blue ball gown that had taken weeks to find and then even more weeks to alter until it was perfect for the night, him in the dark navy suit with the little blue napkin folded perfectly in the pocket. She had a blue corsage, of forget-me-nots and baby's breath tied to her hand.

"Forget me not," she scoffed when she looked at them. She threw them into tbe bonfire and watched the smoke sputter momentarily. It felt good to let it all burn. The carnival photos followed next and then came the ones from when he first asked her to be his girlfriend. They'd be sitting on the ground at a Sonic drive-thru, eating tater tots and onion rings and making fun of the teachers at school. His pick-up truck was parked in one of the slots to order but they'd decided it would be more to eat outside than in the car.

It hadn't lasted; he'd been lying the whole time. She should have known better from a guy on the football team. Her friends had warned her about the reputation of those guys and she'd made the mistake of believing him over them. Her father was in the house, making hot chocolate for her (and one with a generous addition of whiskey for himself), and keeping an eye on the door, just in case he tried coming back around.

She was over him, she was. He'd been so terrible– cold and distant and not at all caring when he'd broken up that she'd gotten over it quickly. There hadn't been much happening between them for those last two weeks of their relationship and when he missed her birthday party, it was hard not to feel resentment. Now, she had even more reason for it. All the pictures curled and burnt in the fire. He was just another picture to burn now and nothing more.

"How's the cleansing going?" Her dad asked when he walked out with two mugs. He handed her the non-alcoholic one.

"I'm planning revenge," she grinned. "Wanna help me chuck the rest of the stuff in the fire?"

Her dad grinned. "It would be my absolute pleasure. I never liked the guy, you know. He always seemed pretty self-absorbed if you ask me. A little overconcerned with his image, you know."

"Thanks, dad."

"Be careful with any revenge you do," he said. "I don't want you doing anything illegal, okay? Breakups are hard but it's no excuse to treat someone without basic decency and it's definitely not a good reason to become a criminal."

"I won't," Alison promised. "I'm not that torn up over him."

"That's good to hear."

Her dad handed her his mug of whiskey chocolate and picked up a box of sweatsthirts, chucking it into the fire with a grin. "This is kind of fun."

Alison nodded. "It's healing," she grinned. "And I don't really want to keep any of the stuff he got me. It's just a reminder of the breakup."

He took his hot chocolate back. "I'm just sorry you had to experience that so early."

"I guess I'll be ready for next time, though. Now I know what to expect, right?"

"I hope there won't be a next time. I hope the next person you find is your forever one."

"Thanks, dad."

"That way we can start annual hunting trips!"

"Dad!"