bite-sized brainrots

“I never believed those words, you know,” he spells the grass alive before sitting. “Always thought there were more and better reasons out there for you to choose from than to live for me.”

He pulls the leaves apart to distract him from the weight of the ring on his left hand.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out here, talking to her. He stands over the engraved block, tracing the curls across the letters of her name. “You did say I was six feet too tall for my own good.”

He doesn’t stop the tears this time.

“And you were right. As always.”