She typed a message on her phone, "I'm sorry."
What am I doing with my life, she could only ask herself.
Riley rose up from the bed and lankily walked in front of her dresser. Her reflection stared back at her.
Anyone could tell she had been crying.
She caressed her own skin and cried herself back to sleep that night.
YOU ARE READING
Untitled ( A Work in Progress)
General FictionKevin was sunshine and cottony clouds against the backdrop of a cerulean afternoon sky. Miguel was strawberry-scented smoke, drunken conversations and obscure music in the wee hours of the night. But Riley knows she cannot keep both of them.
