Summer.

She was summer.

What do you do when you like and dislike something with the same fervour? He didn’t know either.

She was his summer. Her energy tired him. She didn’t know any better.

There were days he longed for the rain. But every time it rained, he found himself yearning for her.  He wanted her. That he needed her was a truth he had long accepted.

He liked her with a passion so strong that it sickened him.
He never told her.
She never asked.

She was summer.
She always burned bright.

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