Meredith Philbrook
Stories (4/0)
The Story of Us
It is seven thirty on a Thursday when you wake up next to him. The sun is streaming in through the open window of your fifth floor walk up, casting shadows across the dark features of his perfect face. Your eyes are closed as you trace circles on the soft skin of his back, and you know one thing to be true: you are in love.
By Meredith Philbrook5 years ago in Humans
Monsters in My Head
She could still hear his voice in her head. That perfect raspy tenor that made butterflies form in her stomach every time that old memory crept in. She could hear the harsh words that he had shouted at her, more out of worry than anger. It was the same words every single time she thought about him, the last words he had ever spoken to her.
By Meredith Philbrook6 years ago in Psyche
Monsters in My Head
She could still hear his voice in her head. That perfect raspy tenor that made butterflies form in her stomach every time that old memory crept in. She could hear the harsh words that he had shouted at her, more out of worry than anger. It was the same words every single time she thought about him, the last words he had ever spoken to her.
By Meredith Philbrook6 years ago in Humans