a sentence.

When my sister and I are working on stories, we’ll give each other what we call a “sentence.” It’s usually more than a sentence, and it’s basically just a snippet of the story that’s intriguing, but doesn’t give anything away. So. I’m here today with a quick sentence from Amori, in which I have reached 4,674 words.

I can’t get the memory of his eyes, so full of the gravity of death, out of my mind. Maybe if I knew his name, and who he was, and that we will only ever have completely separate lives, I could let it go. But I don’t. I don’t know any of that, and it’s likely I never will, so I’ll always be haunted by it.



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