I Started Writing Seriously When

Day Appears Again. This Time He Leans In Close Enough For His Hair To Brush, Light As Silk, Against My Cheeks. He Pulls Me Towards For A Long Kiss. The Scene Vanishes, Replaced Abruptly By A Stormy Night And Day Struggling Through The Rain, Blood Dripping From His Leg And Leaving A Trail Behind Him. He Collapses Onto His Knees In Front Of Razor Before The Whole Scene Disappears Again.

We Can Heal. Perhaps We Can Return To That Same Place We Once Stood, When We Were Both Young And Innocent.

Few People Ever Kill For The Right Reasons, June. Most Do It For The Wrong Reasons. I Just Hope You Never Have To Be In Either Category.

You Drive Me Insane June. You're The Scariest, Most Clever, Bravest Person I Know, And Sometimes I Can't Catch My Breath Because I'm Trying So Hard To Keep Up. There Will Never Be Another Like You. You Realize That, Don't You? Billions Of People Will Come And Go In This World, But There Will Never Be Another Like You.

Then I Realize From The Hollow Sound Of Her Gun's Click That Her Gun Isn't Loaded. Apparently She Just Wants To Slap Me Around With It.