Yup! I think this it’s perfect right here. rarasaur, I absolutely loove what you’ve done with the place 🙂
If a handmade journal buried under a decimated barn on the outskirts of the smallest town in a small state can be found, so can these words.
A fifteen-year-old girl cries on the inside, but can’t seem to manifest tears. The secrets want to stay secret. The child wants to be grown.
She is crying but her face is dry, and instead, she sobs ink. A fountain pen, like her father’s, loops across the page. An error is made and she puts a fine line through it, the way her mother taught her.
Nothing bad has happened.
Nothing bad ever happens because she is loved– loved by great people. They can’t protect her from natural disaster, death, and disease, but they make those problems seem small. They are giants, and she is their precious treasure, cradled safely in their hands.
Still, she weeps. Each tear, a word. Each word…
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