lucrezia le cuyer { d5 } FIN cb

♖

Stars dance over our heads as night turns into day. Cradled worries rock away like babies drifting into sleep. Her and me, me and her — we are each other's rock. Not just any rock, though, she's the rock which we tried to pick up just beyond the 'pleaseludontmakemegothere' tree. It was too big, hence why it's become a symbol of how strong our friendship is. (It's set in stone, Cleo.) We adventure together because I don't want to let her into the real world. My skeletal hand in her palm as I'm pushed from one location to another like a wave lapping the shore. Fingers grasping trees and ankles down rabbit holes, greasy blonde hair rising in the air to fall faster than shadows, we wear our scars with pride as we traipse from one story to another. Picking up abandoned things like us: struggling kittens and beans deemed 'no good' by other district citizens, picking up the pieces of what could have been if history was rewritten.

But neither of us have the power to rewrite our story, so we're forced to compose one from the remnants of others.

We're forced to start anew.