🌷
For Phil! ANGSTTTRRRRRRRRR
Send ‘🌷’ to hear my muse talk about their mother, or a mother figure.
"It's hard to remember her most days," He admits heavily, leaning back against the brick building behind him. He plucks a boiled peanut from the bag in his lap, squeezing it between his fingers as he thinks carefully.
"She's the one who taught me how to cook. The simple stuff, anyway. I learned how to make spaghetti with her. She always smelled like one of two things — Like roasted marshmallows or lemon. Weird contrast, I know. I think the lemon came from her using cleaner on the counters and floors. The marshmallow... I have no idea."
He pops a boiled peanut into his mouth.
"I don't even remember what she looked like now. But I remember she was beautiful. I remember that she was kind, and that I loved her. That I miss her."
