She and her diary. He and his handwritten letters. Two brokenhearted strangers. One faithful meeting. How do you unlove someone? How do you move-on? And lastly, Where do broken hearts go?
I sat behind the couch, scrunched in a fetal position, hiding from the sliver of sun which managed to squeeze its way out from behind the drapes. My tormentor. Once a beloved friend, now it holds me captive behind this couch with nothing to keep me company but some cobwebs and fuzzy dust-bunnies. My newly improved eye...