- Original Work (1)
When I told Ella that I wanted to kill myself she tried to apologize. There was pity in her soft hazel eyes, the warm butterscotch swirled with sadness, and she held onto my arm, gripping it at the elbow as if she held on tight enough I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t standing on the edge of a building I wanted to tell her. I was sitting in an old leather couch sipping a foggy glass of iced tea, and tapping the couch lightly with the heels of my feet.