“For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.” 

***

In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway bet ten dollars that he could write a complete story in just six words. He wrote and he won, calling it his best piece of writing. 

(Source: theworldandback, via schaaa)

and this was it.

there was no more turning back, no more forced words disguised as passion, desperately trying to reignite something that could not be found. our anger wavered, faltered into restlessness and settled deep into a complacency that neither of us could pull ourselves out of.

we had noticed it slowly, our hearts changing, turning, shifting like two opposing seasons found on opposite sides of the world.

it became lesson after lesson, an anthropological study of our arguments, our decisions, our lives, our things, the artifacts of a relationship dispersed throughout our own belongings. searching for the pieces that no longer belonged, their lending agency having expired long ago. 

the shape of significance had changed before our eyes,

but like most people we were scared to see

what our hearts were trying to tell us.