Prologue

13 4 3
                                    

Drip. Drip.

"It is raining again, isn't it?

I can barely hear it now

I can barely feel everything."

But there was an ache in her unstable chest

as she closed her unblinking eyes, there was a slightest bit of warmth snuggled in her lids.

She remembered so little

even his face, just the blurry outline came ashore.

but every existing movement he had ever done

the persistent feeling of who he was

as she carefully wrote himself in her aging heart and mind

it was enough

to make her feel him, once again.

For one last breath,

"please let me write you for one last breath."

Dear, StrangerWhere stories live. Discover now