Winter’s Hold, His Heat
The snow tasted of regret. It always did when I let myself
Ginny on the Rocks
Concrete Bloom
The rain tasted like regret. I’d been collecting it all evening,
Salt & Scorched Skin
The sand still held the ghost of his heat. Not a fiery,
Salt & Recklessness
The salt spray tasted like a promise – sharp, undeniable. He’d found