My grandmother's letters smell like lavender and regret. She wrote about a man she never married, and I wonder if that's why she always told me to be brave.
There's a coffee shop on the corner where nobody knows my name, and somehow that's become the only place I can write anymore. The anonymity feels like freedom.
I watched the rain fall sideways today, and remembered how you used to say the sky was just the ocean turned upside down. I think I finally understand what you meant.