Late afternoon sun.
It’s cold inside the cafe.
I breathe in and sip,
burning my chapped lips.
I read “The Choice” again and
again. There’s no choice.
As she passes a
girl’s loosed red hair woos what re-
mains of the daylight.
Late afternoon sun.
It’s cold inside the cafe.
I breathe in and sip,
burning my chapped lips.
I read “The Choice” again and
again. There’s no choice.
As she passes a
girl’s loosed red hair woos what re-
mains of the daylight.