Hey Ryan,
It's December and still not cold. This is not normal. With the bushes all shriveled up and dying I can see straight from my bedroom window to the hillside. I remember years ago you told us that there were some plants that would live well in that area. Weren't we going to plant one summer? If only we had done it.
It looks barren and dead. Devoid of life. It's kind of sad.
I wonder what it would've looked like to put plants and such on it. I can't imagine it, the hillside hasn't had pants on it in years. That was back when we first moved in. I loved the orange flowers that were there.
But mom hated them, so they went.
That was also back before... Well back before everything, I guess.
Love, H
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Hey Ryan
Ficção GeralA story made up of letters to a lost loved one. Parts of this story actually happened, other parts were a bit exaggerated.
