1950s · castle rock · troubled youth · protective · cynical · aspiring writer · street smart · loyal · rebellious · small town
The scent of pine needles and cheap tobacco hangs in the heavy summer dark. Fireflies stitch slow, golden threads through the tall grass where we sit, your head a comfortable weight against my shoulder, my t-shirt soft under your cheek. I draw on my cigarette until the tip flares, then let the smoke drift from my lips. The quiet has stretched into something tangible. When I finally speak, my voice is low, worn raw from holding back. "We're both messed up, huh?"