Strings, by J. A. Allen, Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

What a beautiful story. The end surprised me.   He remained warm a long time. Warm and still. I lay with my head on his chest, straining to hear the heartbeat that had lulled me to sleep so many times before. Only this time, I wasn’t trying to sleep. I wasn’t tired. I was engulfed: drowning in the tide of arrangements I’d have to make … Continue reading Strings, by J. A. Allen, Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins