The Possible Truth of Dakota Malone

'The boy gazed at the girl as her dark hair flew wild in the wind. There was something about the girl , she wasn't like him, and maybe that was what he liked best. She was a beautiful mess. The kind you don't clean up because it was art and it was fucking beautiful. And in that instant he found himself pining after a girl whose name he didn't even know. All he knew was that if the graceful, yet stubborn way that she carried herself were to ever falter, he would want to be the one to pick it up and put her back together again.'