…and Emma Felt Another Small Portion Of

He Wanted To Live Life In Such A Way That If A Photograph Were Taken At Random, It Would Be A Cool Photograph.

No, Friends Were Like Clothes: Fine While They Lasted But Eventually They Wore Thin Or You Grew Out Of Them.

In Eight Years Not A Day Has Gone By When She Hasn’t Thought Of Him. She Misses Him And She Wants Him Back. I Want My Best Friend Back, She Thinks, Because Without Him Nothing Is Good And Nothing Is Right.

As New Dawns Go, This One Is Depressingly Like The Old Dawn.

Their Friendship Was Like A Wilted Bunch Of Flowers That She Insisted On Topping Up With Water. Why Not Let It Die Instead?