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Clara Peace. She was in a space of pure, blissful peace. Sitting on the porch swing, pushing her bright pink flip-flops into the broken wood of the deck to propel herself back and forth. He was smiling at her from the lawn chair he sat in. Shirtless and shoeless, he smiled at her. That’s how they stayed together for practically the entire evening. Quiet and contempt, just grinning stupidly at each other. His dimples popped on both cheeks when he looked at her. She noticed every wrinkle and crease of his scarred face. Every freckle, every for...
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