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[image] “It’s Grace’s birthday,” the friend announces. Grace’s features crease in discomfort. “Ramona.” “Shit, it is?” I grin at her. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.” “Thanks.” Her bottom lip juts out glumly. “I’m nineteen today. Go me.” – Happy Birthday, Grace Ivers ، ♥︎ ·

[image] "It’s a blonde in a green sundress, and the afternoon sunlight catches in her golden braid as she bends her head to read the book in her lap. Then her head lifts, and holy shit again, because I was right the first time —it is her."