I keep telling myself tomorrow, tomorrow will be a better day. Tomorrow will be the day that I’ll forget his hallo, cold voice telling me that it will be okay. Tomorrow will be the day that I will erase his face from my memory. Tomorrow will be the day that I won’t fear letting people in. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. But tomorrow never fucking comes.

A Game of Chess

Enscripted flowers, animals, and angels inhabit the stool beneath me, as well as the outer edges of the table. The table rests in an enchanted garden. It is wide and open, sloping gently down to a cosmic-blue river. By day, the garden is washed by the sun, giving it a golden glow.

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