"June 1991," the calendar read.
Eleanor
In the span of five years, her life had drastically changed. No more abusive step-dad, no mom, no Ben, little Richie, Mouse, or even Maisie.
What Eleanor did have was a bathroom with a door, clothes that weren't from Goodwill, real food, and a normal family.
Despite of all the things she did have, she thought about that one thing she didn't and that thing was one word: only four letters long.
Park.
Park
"I love you."
"I love you."
"I love you."
Ever since he got the postcard from Eleanor, Park has read it umpteen times every single day.
How was it even possible that something so small, like three words, be the reason that Park got up every morning?
It had been five years since that night. When Eleanor had left Omaha. That night. When life had been cruel enough to separate Eleanor from Park, Park from Eleanor. That night. When they'd felt truly invincible, like it was them against the world - Eleanor and Park. That night.
