Ivy Asher

He doesn’t understand in the slightest that when you’re cruel and corrupt on the inside, it taints what people see on the outside. I like to call it the Gaston complex.

Maybe this is his olive leaf, maybe he’s showing me that even though she’s gone, I’m not alone.

For no other reason than it’s been hammered into me since I was little, I find myself making my bed, straightening my pillows, and tucking in my sheets, just the way my mom insisted. “Life can be messy, Seneca, so make sure the bed you lie in isn’t.”