He exited the train at Buenos Aires. This place was so unfamiliar and so new. Nothing left for him to linger around for, just this new, foreign place, with everything ahead of him.

John's life was previously tragic; enough to leave a full apartment, to take one suitcase, buy a last-minute, super-expensive plane ticket, and leave St. Louis in the dust.

The sun was setting as he walked down the airplane stairs to the tarmac; no sense of time, or anything that was going on. John knew no one. John cared about no one. The tan faces and dark hair...

I was all wrong. This wasn't the spot I thought we buried her. Jason was in front of me pointing left, and the sky was darkening. My mind was all over the fucking place. He's pointing left, when I swear we buried her right by this patch of weird leaves that looked like lettuce. Still, Jason swore that we needed to head left more. Really, when you commit such a crime, and forget where you buried the body, needing to go back to get it because you "accidentally" left the weapon right by the body, possibly with your prints... going...

Green bows were her signature hair accessory. Abby, with her fiery red, curly hair, always had a green bow. Her grandmother thought it was special to represent her Irish heritage, her mom thought it was a phase. Last year, when Abby was 8, she wore rain boots wherever she went. The green bows were just "a thing."

In school, though, the bows didn't go over so well with the other kids. Abby was teased for always wearing them, gettin called names for looking the same everyday. Bonnie was a mean girl at Abby's school, and ripped Abby's favorite green bow...

He laid back, eyes closed, a smile stretched across his face. Summer never felt so good; the sun beating down made him relaxed, and he felt like he could sprawl out on the grass all day long.

With eyes closed, his mind drifted to summers past, lying on the grass with his dog Buddy after catching a frisbee back and forth. His mind was in another place, somewhere peaceful, simple, romantic even.

A place where the sun rises and sets with beautiful colors, where the grass is plush and Kelly Green. A place where the sailboats against the sunset have...

Gradually. That's what the doctor tells me. Gradually I will get worse. My liver will gradually fail; my arthritis will gradually turn my hands crooked.

So gradually, you mean, I'm dying? Isn't that bullshit? Could there be something worse for me to hear? So gradually since the age of 13, I've been killing myself. That first drink, to the last, I "gradually" ruined my insides? All because my parents failed to tell me what drinking really does to you? So it's my fault that during summers, parties, college, and beyond, that I "enjoyed" my life while ruining it at the...

The year was 1986. It was a Tuesday, at night. 7:58 PM. I couldn't wait until 8 o'clock to enter the world. I'm sure I came out screaming like most babies. I'm sure my eyes were closed, and that the October chill had me wanting a blanket.

The year was 1990, and I remember asking my dad for days when I was going to be 4 years old. My eyes were wide and hazel, my hair blonde and short.

The year was 1994 and I got to wear a sundress in October. Never ever in New York can you wear...

I could hear it whipping in the wind outside my bedroom; his coat that was left on the laundry line to hang dry. You can't leave clothes out on a line when it's winter in New York; 'specially the mountains. The cuffs and the buttons froze when I finally had the courage to get it. A crow sat on the line right by it and cawed when I went to release the jacket from the clothespins.

I brought it into my mama, who told me he aint' never comin' back to Saranac. It's sad, you know, that he left her....

100 feet away, and we still couldn't talk. She sat there behind bars on a rotting metal cot while I was wearing designer jeans with a designer purse, just to visit her in jail.

I stared at her through the glass, and she hung her head until the guard whispered to her that someone was there to see her. Slowly raising her head, she looked toward the plexi-glass visitors room; the room where we could watch the prisoners like they were in a zoo or something.

She looked up at me and gave a the smile you give that still...

She sat cold in her bedroom; freezing. Holding the book to her chest like she couldn't let it go. That book held all of her secrets. Good and bad, ones that could even get her, and some others arrested.

She knew she had to pull herself together; at this point she was sobbing, thinking of everything that was going on in her life, why she was sitting in a nightshirt in the 60 degree house when it was -8 outside, when she could be bundled up somewhere else where it was actually warm outside.

She opened her journal for some...

You gave me the best summer of my life. The summer before I went to college, I wished that everything we had shared would never change.

We kissed on the bench in my backyard, in your car in the rain, at the movies...Then once I got to college, it was your apartment.

Back to summer; I can't think of better moments I could have shared with anyone else.

After my sophomore year, I didn't see you again. And I'll always think of the night you proposed, watching MTV, high, at 4am.

I will remember the way you used to look...