i rush past the desk, looking in all the rooms. i find the sight of his backpack and i run inside.
i almost wish i hadn't.
he was surrounded by doctors who were cutting. into his chest. into his heart. into his head.
a million tubes were inside him.
he looked broken. not my strong boy who owned the coffee shop on 4th street.
YOU ARE READING
· artist ·
Teen Fiction"I am not a word, I am not a line. I am not a girl that could ever be defined." or, the story of a girl who has nothing more than an iPod, a diary, and a dream. until she meets the boy in the cafe and the girl from the studio.
