Crossroad Meme Novels & Stories

Mei said, “about half the posts are people yelling that pups aren’t property. Your speech is getting traction.” “Great,” Lyra said. “I always wanted to be meme‑quoted in between cat videos and conspiracy threads.” Mei’s gaze flicked to her phone again, lips thinning. “There’s a thread,” she said slowly, “where some genius is zooming your block photos. ‘Spot the laundromat,’ ‘track the route,’ that kind of thing. Harris and Rhea are already playing whack‑a‑mole with it, but it’s out there.”

She lowered her eyes. A brief, awkward silence followed before Dev decided to keep the conversation going. “Remember Rocky, the German Shepherd?” “Uh-huh.” “Well, he didn’t stay on much after dad passed away.” “Where’d he go?” “Um… he too... crossed that ‘bridge’ you were talking about?” He air-quoted. “Oh, that’s… so bad.” Was he being funny? “Yes, it is. I’m sure that he’s in a great place though.” “True,” she commented.

"I don't know where you get these wild ideas from. By the way, I heard a new cafe just opened back home. We should check it out when I'm back." Or the time when he switched his all-black profile picture to one with a cartoon avatar. Worried, I'd called him and joked self-deprecatingly, "Have you really met someone taller, slimmer, and cuter than me?" Xavier had evaded that question as well, and instead asked me, "Are you working on Memorial Day?" "Yeah." "Guess we can't meet up, then. It would be tedious." When I finally snapped out of my daze, Xavier was no longer looking at me. His gaze was fixed on his phone as his thumbs flew over the keyboard.

I sat up, reading the headline they used. “CHEATED AND CHEAP; RECEPTIONIST PAYS FOR LUXURY GETAWAY, GETS DUMPED IN LOBBY SHOWDOWN.” There was even a picture of me on it, but what had me speechless were the harsh comments. “Imagine wasting your savings on a man. LOL. Couldn't be me.” “She really thought she was the main character? Tragic.” “Someone tell her thrift store jeans aren't Golden Hen material.” “What the hell? These people don't even know the full story,” I complained, scrolling through the comments.

They are called- The Crossbreeds.

The rules I have learned so far are as follows: o Rule One: Bridges are not allowed to use magic for self-benefit, hence why I am broke. o Rule Two: Bridges are restricted in using magic or thought to cast vengeance or harm to those they have bridged, even unintentionally. o Rule Three: Bridges must endure selected traumatic hardships to better acclimate them to various scenarios of pain, fear, hope, and despair, hence my PTSD, anxiety, and depression. o Rule 4: Bridges cannot undo, tear down, or destroy, by any means, the bridges they laid for others. This basically also plays into the no vengeance or recourse allowed rule.

The Crossbearer. Fuck.

I also sent a message to my lawyer, telling him to include a clause that I would voluntarily give up custody of Naomi. For the next two days, Willow and Naomi didn't come home. I knew what they had been doing exactly because everything I had to know was on Willow's Instagram. In one post, Naomi sat on Luther's shoulders, grinning and holding up a cotton candy. Willow stood nearby, looking at them with a happy smile. The caption read, "Our simple happiness." At a bistro, Willow fed Luther a bite of cut steak, smiling the whole time. More glaring photos like these flashed past my eyes. I said nothing and simply hit "like".

“Croissants. From the place that pretends they’re from Paris.” “Bless you,” I muttered, taking one. Lila perched on the arm of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “So… I woke up to your face all over my feed again. It’s giving ‘star-crossed scandal sequel.’” I groaned. “Please don’t start.” She grinned. “Relax. I’m not judging. I’m just saying — the man looked like a walking heartbreak out there. You could feel the tension through the photos.”