12-04-2020, 02:39 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%; color: #494949; font-family: karla; font-size: 9pt; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 10px;"] her mama loved the ocean . . .
growing up , she used to tag along during the youth group trips to the shore; something that , as max got older , she became quite flustered in. she already went enough , max foolishly thought , and so why would she need to join the only time they were ever apart? max had enough trouble making friends at it was. ultimately, she wished she never thought that. it's only been three years since her mother's passing , yet the wound is still fresh. if heaven exists , if she's watching over her now , what must she think?
the sun's setting below the horizon when she decides to pay it a visit. the sky, it's lovely shades of orange and purples, a bitter wind biting through the flannel that she wears. for awhile , she avoids it because she, ruslan, and veronika had been riding the waves so long she was almost revolted, but being here— from the shore— is quite different. a pang of nostalgia ruptures her belly, making her wish that she'd appreciated her mother's presence during youth group trips , wishing that she could have just one more day with her if she could.
how long had she been sitting here before it really hit her? it could have been thirty minutes , maybe an hour , when she began to feel her throat close up and the hot burning sensation of tears working their way down her cheeks. she doesn't sob yet, but reaches up to wipe the tears with the sleeve of the flannel she wears. at least now , in a sense , she could grieve in silence. she no longer had to worry about the fears of her acquaintances somehow hearing her ( if they even considered her that. )
growing up , she used to tag along during the youth group trips to the shore; something that , as max got older , she became quite flustered in. she already went enough , max foolishly thought , and so why would she need to join the only time they were ever apart? max had enough trouble making friends at it was. ultimately, she wished she never thought that. it's only been three years since her mother's passing , yet the wound is still fresh. if heaven exists , if she's watching over her now , what must she think?
the sun's setting below the horizon when she decides to pay it a visit. the sky, it's lovely shades of orange and purples, a bitter wind biting through the flannel that she wears. for awhile , she avoids it because she, ruslan, and veronika had been riding the waves so long she was almost revolted, but being here— from the shore— is quite different. a pang of nostalgia ruptures her belly, making her wish that she'd appreciated her mother's presence during youth group trips , wishing that she could have just one more day with her if she could.
how long had she been sitting here before it really hit her? it could have been thirty minutes , maybe an hour , when she began to feel her throat close up and the hot burning sensation of tears working their way down her cheeks. she doesn't sob yet, but reaches up to wipe the tears with the sleeve of the flannel she wears. at least now , in a sense , she could grieve in silence. she no longer had to worry about the fears of her acquaintances somehow hearing her ( if they even considered her that. )
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.4;"]I'M [I]HIGH AS A PRIVATE JET. â€â€