I.
It was the first night of summer and her skin itched with the mosquito bites she hadn't gotten yet. It was the last night of summer and her mind itched for new possibilities. She never understood why they didn't celebrate the end of August the way they did the end of December, with fireworks and music and kisses at midnight. This part always felt like a more fitting time for resolutions, this was the true new year. This time, summer had gotten an extension of sorts, a deadline delayed, a few extra weeks of limbo that hardly counted, really, because they would be spent alone.
II.
She was thinking about the sky when it gets beautiful and big and makes you feel like the top of the rollercoaster, a small drop in your stomach, she could fall in.
Like a good song that makes you miss your exit, keep driving on the highway, on a journey without a destination, is this what it means to get lost in the music?
Like writing endlessly, with no limits, and no fear. Suddenly everything is inspiration.
III.
She thinks love is bigger then even the sky, because no matter how far she goes it stays the same.
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