Hold Me, Then Hurt Me
I struck a match and watched the flame lick at the shattered image of Rocco's face on the canvas.
The oil paint sizzled, sending up plumes of black smoke.
Rocco rushed out after me, his voice sharp with alarm when he saw what I was doing. "Harper, what are you doing?"
I tossed the letters, filled with a young girl's unsent confessions, into the barrel one by one.
"Taking out the trash."
As I watched the flames consume the words "I love you, Rocco,"my eyes felt hot, but I gritted my teeth and refused to let a single tear fall.