100 words x 365 days
Lost in her mind, she found the greatest solace in the words of the past. Sneaking away, she tucked herself tight into the small box, reading the letters of her loss. Huddled into the corner, the scent of old paper and dried ink whispered against her ivory flesh. The wonder of young love still clutches at her soul. Her heart calls out the whispers of his lies, fooling her with dreams of promises dead and gone. He claimed to love her till the day he died, but his words died before he did. Arsenic can come in the form of flesh.