Pen Pal

by J.T. Geissinger

I read somewhere that grief is more than an emotion. It’s a physical experience, too.

“Even small dragons can still breathe fire.”

How naïve we are when we’re young. How easily we trust that the sun will keep rising and setting, warming our days. And what a terrible blow it is to discover it isn’t the sun that makes things bright, but the people who love us, so that when they’re gone, everything is plunged into darkness.

Hindsight is a real bitch sometimes.