In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Today's prompt (List ten words that best describe the person you've lost)
Dear Robin,
I'm sorry that I haven't written more often, life has been chaotic but oddly peaceful lately. Paris has been a distraction, the good kind. The kind that sweeps you off your feet, consumes your thoughts and leaves no room for worries or concerns, only the desire to please him. You'd like him. You'd tease me relentlessly, but I think you'd like him. He makes me feel like the person I never thoughtI could be again, and he doesn't just listen to me, Roe. He hears me. He sees me. He's also the reason I haven't been writing, so maybe you wouldn't like him after all, what do I know?
I'm supposed to come up with ten words that perfectlyencapsulate who you are as a person. I don't know how this helps with anything, but I'm not the certified head shrink here, Erica is. So again, what do I know? Erica, if I ever let you read these entries, I'm sorry.
Here are ten words I think best describe you, Robin.
(1) Resilient (2) Talented (3) Quirky (Don't even lie, you put frozen peas in your ice cream and enjoyed it) (4) Adventurous (5) compassionate (6) Brave (7) Independent (8) Witty (9) loving (10) Gone but not forgotten
I'm so grateful for the time I got with you, Robin, you've taught me (Unwillingly) that life can be so fleeting. It's like one second your dancing in your underwear in our dorm room and my life makes sense and then unawares you're not here and you're never going to be here again andI'm knocked on my ass and thrown into the unknown. We made a promise to always be there for each other and I know that death doesn't have any regard for promises, but there are still days when I hate you a little for leaving me.
Love, Reagan.
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I'M HEATING LEFTOVERS IN the microwave when Paris gets home. He toes off his shoes and undoes a few buttons from his shirt by the door, all without saying a word. And then he strides towards me, his steps confident and purposeful. I bite my lips when he picks me up and sets me on the kitchen counter, kissing the side of my neck as he murmurs his hello. The cool surface of the counter sends a thrill through me, but I ignore it. The air around us feels electric. Charged with tension, anticipation, and excitement.
“Hi, baby,” he says, his hand going slowly to my throat, the way he knows I like. Holding me there.
"Hi,” I whisper, running my hands through his hair, messing it up. He smells like chamomile and warmth, and I don't think I'll ever get enough of that smell. He pulls away from me and kisses the tip of my fingers that are stained with charcoal.
