
Our Last
The warm weight of her head against my rising and falling chest, her deep breathing in and out, her lead body as still as a
COFFEE – STORY – SNAP
Snapshots of daily life paired with untold stories, spun by the imagination of a creative writer

The warm weight of her head against my rising and falling chest, her deep breathing in and out, her lead body as still as a

The perfect gift of love. Her arrival date was Christmas Day. Her funeral came shortly after. She lived and died inside of me. I cradled

She breathed in the fresh November air, milder than the previous year, her boots squelching in the thick mud as she pushed her pumpkin in

The salty tang of olives would hang in the air, sun cream, sweat, salami and cheeses. Picnics with the girls. The sun hanging over our