Poets Goodbye Crossword Novels & Stories

"I think he just wanted us both to stop being sad in the way we were sad back then. I don't think he was making a prediction about a kitchen in Portland fifteen years later." "No," Adrian agreed. "But I think he'd like it. If he could see it." "I think he can," Sophia said, surprising herself slightly with how easily the words came, how little doubt sat underneath them. "I think that's what the grave visits have been, all these years. I think that's what the frame Noah left there was. I don't think any of us actually believes he's simply gone in the way the word usually means."

But some things end, no matter how deeply they once mattered. I had let go. Only Aria—my best friend—dared to ask such things outright. Her eyes drifted to my belly. “Lily, what about the pup? Are you really not going to tell my cousin he’s going to be a father?” I gently rubbed my round belly, a soft look on my face. That day at the healer’s office, I had nearly gone through with the abortion. But at the very last moment… I couldn’t do it. I had already lost Alex.

It felt like I had to get everything off my chest. The more I spoke, the more heartbroken I became. By the time I finished, my voice was slightly hoarse. On the other end of the line, Ryan was silent the entire time. It wasn’t until my sobs finally died down that he spoke—his voice cold. "Are you done crying?" There was impatience in his tone, like a bucket of ice water dumped over me as if to remind me how ridiculous I was.

When I tried to send the last message with my phone before it died, hoping to tell them where I was and leave my final words, I saw the messages my parents had sent instead. [The Moon Goddess kept us safe, all three of us are fine.] [We're so thankful to the Moon Goddess. Even the pet puppy is okay.] They were at home, getting cozy by the fire. They were all smiles, with Summer holding the little stray puppy she found. Meanwhile, I was in the snow, my hands numb as I dug through the ice. I kept going, driven by the need to survive, and I finally made it out. However, to Dad, my return was just a way for me to 'rebel' and 'start drama'.

She explains. “If that’s your plan, why did you invite us to your home? It might alarm Xander.” Clarise asks in confusion. Hannah’s eyes welled up, “It might, but I want to bid farewell to all of you properly. I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to Bridget. I don’t want to feel the same despair when leaving you.” She stated. Clarise touched her cheeks and wiped the tears from her eyes. ”You don't make sense. Oh! You silly goose,” she uttered, then hugged her.

He fell to his knees, drained of all strength. "I was wrong, Jess. Please, I beg you, just see me one more time…" I frowned, feeling nothing but disgust. Mrs. Morrison chuckled coldly. "Do you know what Jess said before she died? She said she never wants to see you again, not in life or death! "She's gone!" "No… That's impossible. You're lying to me. You're all lying to me!" Chester sobbed uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Lawrence called my name, but he couldn't force out the next sentence. It was as if no matter what he said, it would be rejected. As if no matter what he said, he wouldn't get the answer he wanted. "I don't need your flowers. I'm leaving now. Goodbye, Lawrence Schwartz." This was the first time in five years I had seriously called him by his name. I hoped it would also be the last. I dragged my suitcase outside. That oversized suitcase carried everything I owned from this old house. Lawrence looked back into the house. It was empty, lifeless. What was left for him looked no different from a staged model home.

Dragging her suitcase behind her, she hailed a taxi to the airport, where she met up with the junior assistant assigned to this company trip. Goodbye. Goodbye forever.

The roses I had spent all afternoon picking were already starting to wilt, just like our six years together were coming to an end. Carl disappeared for a week. When he finally came back, he didn't say a word about where he'd been or ask how I was doing. The first thing he said was that he wanted to sleep with another woman. I didn't even know how long we sat there in silence until his phone rang on the table. It was that special ringtone he had set for Wendy Lyle. "Carl, you're still not coming?" Wendy's voice came through the phone. I tightened my fist so hard that my knuckles went white. "Carl Larson! We're not over yet!"

… I went to the public phone booth and dialled the familiar number once again, expecting no one to pick up like before. But to my surprise, before I could even say anything, a voice—both strange yet familiar—came through. The voice said, "Hello, this is Joseph Coleman. How can I help you?" It turned out that Joseph wasn't dead at all.