Left of Forever (Spunes, OR, #2)

by Tarah DeWitt

I’d learn how love could change; how it could grow from friendship into more, into something that felt infinite. Love could be loud and supernova hot, and something soothing and quiet, too.

I grew up with my great love, so I think maybe my heart took shape around his.

His voice is like having my back scratched.

I miss you, too sounds glib. You have been missing from me is more accurate. There’s a void where you lived in me.

“All I know is that if I found out heaven was real and got there first? I’d hang back in the waiting room and save you a seat.”

“I think it’s arrogant to think the stars and moon can affect the tides but not have an effect on me. Some things are just more powerful than we are.”

There’s a whoosh in my ears, like invisible hands placed invisible seashells up to them.

I have genuine butterflies when I finally lie down to go to sleep. But … they’re heavier than butterflies, with different wingspans and speeds. More like birds.

“I guess … Like feeling the sun shining through a window. It’s sunshine and it’s there and it’s warm, but it’s not the same as feeling it on my skin.”