Author: Gabriel De Palo
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Forty-eight
Many people like to measure affection using their arms. They like to spread them out as wide as possible, and tell the other person, “I love you this much!” Does that mean taller people love more deeply than shorter ones? Do people with longer fingers get a few more inches of love than everyone else?…
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Forty-seven
I keep my eyes screwed shut, groaning as I lift my hand to my forehead and rub it, as if that would stop my brain from pounding against my skull. My mouth is bone-dry, my throat isn’t faring much better, and my lips feel like they’re ready to simply peel off my face, leaving me…
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Forty-six
Ever since the crash, something has been leaving tattoos on my arm. That’s the only way I can describe it, at least. I don’t think it’s made of ink, and I certainly never felt the needle pierce my skin, but they appear regardless. It’s not an intricate tattoo, or anything artistic or unique. It’s just…
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Forty-five
“Do you have any idea just how delusional you sound?” Reece asked, exasperated, just before another arrow flew from Nelson’s bow, whistling through the air and thudding deep into the dummy at the other end of the firing range. “Bullseye,” he bragged, brushing his hair back with one hand, combing his fingers slowly through his…
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Forty-four
Look at him. Standing there like nothing’s wrong, smiling and waving at everyone as he opens the door to the room. Yet, everyone else looks so ridiculously happy to see him. They all greet him as he enters, shaking his hand and giving him hugs. I swear, he could walk in covered with literal shit,…
A Forsworn Fantasy 