Tillie Cole

The half-empty jar of a thousand boy-kisses.

“And my heart almost burst.”

“Our footprints in the sand.”

In both cases, a bond that no one could break.

Poppy was quirky, not cool. She wasn’t concerned with what people thought of her—she never had been. She played the cello because she loved it. She read books, she studied for fun, she woke at dawn just to watch the sunrise.

. His fingers stopped, as he whispered one word, one emotionally packed word, in the most painfully desperate, graveled voice…: “Poppymin.”

“Poppy and Rune. Two halves of the same whole. Reunited at last. When it matters most.”

“I kept my promise,” I interrupted. “Since the day I left you, I haven’t kissed anyone else. My lips are still yours. There’s never been anyone else. There never will be.”

“It’s okay to laugh,” she said, her voice as soft as a feather. “It’s okay to smile. It’s okay to feel happy. Or what’s the point in life?”

“I’m that girl, Rune. The one who waits out the storm simply to catch a glimpse of a rainbow. Why be miserable when you can be happy? It’s an obvious choice to me.”