Scars Of A Broken Bond

A woman graced the stage, her voice twining with the lyrics of a folk song.

As Sabrina took a seat at the bar, the bartender asked, “What can I get you, miss?”

A quick reality check reminded her that she was expecting. “A Sprite, please,”

The bartender was left momentarily speechless.

He thought she was kidding, but he still brought a bottle of Sprite for

Sabrina. “Enjoy your drink.”

“Thank you,” Sabrina replied, securing her drink and finding a secluded spot. She settled into her chair, her gaze focused on the singer on the stage, her mind adrift with thoughts.

summer’s song of cicadas, beyond

rainy season. What you choose to discard is what I most yearn to grasp. There wasn’t enough time. My story is all about you. How did

elude me when expressing my love. My story

extraordinary, just ordinary. Perhaps due to the small audience, her voice seemed to lose a bit

something profound. Her eyes welled up and her heart ached with the

emotions chose this moment to

naive college boy to the

was her target, a beacon in her murky existence,

from the shadows, muddied and

fought to keep it afloat, exhausting her