There are not many times that Summer has felt as bad as this. There have been times, but not many. And as she sits in silence, chipping away at the "perfect pink" polish on her fingernails, she thinks of him and tries not to cry. There is this little pulse in her jaw that aches from trying not to cry, but she does not want to give into the feelings that are slowly seeping through her veins like sad treacle. "What's the hold up, Cohen? We've been making out for like an hour!" "Nothing, nothing... read more
