Six Summers to Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

Time only heals if you acknowledge its passing. Grief has no finite measure.

“It’s a tragedy, Harper. And tragedies never make any sense. They’re just weights we have to live with.”

“I only called you Sunshine ironically once,” he tells me. “Every other time, it’s been because that’s how I feel around you. Bright and happy. Being around you makes me so fucking happy, Harper.” “I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper. His fingers continue playing with my hair, my favorite smile appearing. “Good. I’ve been falling for a while, baby.”