Some memories aren't meant to be revived.
Especially when they're lurking in the deceitful creases and folds of the treacherous night.
*extended summary inside*
Miriam was the type of girl who scowled at the very thought of makeup.
With tangles in her hair that abolished brushes and weaved themselves in to people's coat buttons, when ever people were asked to define chaos-
Miriam was the honey less word that oozed from their lips.
She was the enigma with chapped lips that stretched in to an angled smile whenever he said those three words.
She was also the girl who despised cliches and happily ever afters and who propped her feet up on the dashboard and swore at her boyfriend when he bought her muffins instead of cupcakes.
Baby pink chipped nail polish was her constant fashion statement and midnight endeavours outside gave her a jolt of euphoria.
Something about losing herself in the darkness and how the sheer black of the night sometimes made her forget exactly what she wanted and who she was.
She was the last person anyone expected, to have her face plastered on the back of a milk carton.
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