The Dead Romantics

There really wasn’t a sight like it.

think it was the stars. I missed the stars too much. Especially the way they looked from the brick steps of my parents’ front porch.

To forget that I had failed at the one thing I was ever good at. To pretend like tomorrow wasn’t the last day of the best career of my life. To be someone else for a while.
Just for a night.
Someone who didn’t fail.

I just regretted being the kind of girl who fell for someone like him in the first place.

Because I liked his charm, and I definitely didn’t want to, and I hated disappointing people, and—

. No, Florence. Bad girl, I scolded myself. You do not want to climb him like a tree, because he’s your new editor and therefore very, incredibly, stupendously unclimbable.

Love was putting up with someone for fifty years so you’d have someone to bury you when you died. I would know; my family was in the business of death.

I was an eighty-year-old in a twenty-eight-year-old body.

That’s lovely, dear.”

And in my head, every story has a happy ending