She stared at the coffee. Freshly brewed. Dark brown. Like the color of his eyes. And she wondered if he found things that reminded him of her baby blues, or if he tried to avoid them too.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Mending A Broken Heart
ContoI don't think it's about finding myself as much as it is about remaking myself. I had been this girl for awhile, and then I started changing. Heading in a new direction blindfolded. I think it's time to take the blindfold off and create myself with...
