S K Y E W I L S O N
I heave in a lung full of smoke , my eyes fluttering closed as the burn flows down my throat . I blow out slowly , watching the smoke disperse into thin air . I've never really enjoyed smoking , but the burn running down my throat has always rooted me . Whenever my father and I would fight — which was very often — Sage would meet me in the woods with a packet of her cigarettes and we'd just sit there , smoking , without any words interrupting . That's what I like about Sage , she never asks . Because in a way , she already knows .
"So , how'd you even meet him ?" I ask , glancing over at her . She sighs , leaning back against the windowsill , and bends her knees , resting her elbows on her knees . "When you went missing , I came here ," She whispers , averting her
