Her nails were white, her clothing black. Her heart resembled much of the both of them. Void of life and full with hatred. “I hate …
Purple Prose by Rachael Costello
You take down frames and mirrors, pack boxes full of old books and sweaters. Do you remember what it felt like when the books first …
One Single Baseball by Rachael Costello
“You know,” Clayton said to me, “it doesn’t always have to depend on pride and/or falling head over heels for him. There is a grey …