He'd sing with me.
Many sad and many happy songs.
But my favorite one was the one he wrote for me.
He'd always laugh, when I'd tell him I wanted to sing that specific song.
"Voices, again?", he'd ask and I'd clap my hands like an exited toddler.
And somehow, while singing, I forgot my desire to vomit.
YOU ARE READING
10 things to do.
RomanceIn which a boys' job is to keep me busy after eating. W A R N I N G eating disorder and sad stuff happening
