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. ...click here to READ MORE