Flowers by Gracie Bawden
he summer of ‘07 was hot with youth. The
old oaks’ new leaves danced limply in the lazy wind. Even the sea was thick
with heat, its waves rolling over each other in a slow and smothering embrace.
An old Bush radio blasted out the Arctic Monkeys' “Fluorescent Adolescent” which cut harshly through the
air that lay stale between Gemma and Bailey. ...READ MORE