A painting is more than the sum of its parts. A cow by itself is just a cow. A meadow by itself is just grass, flowers. And the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light. But you put them all together and it can be magic.
Some days the sunsets would be purple and pink. And some days they were a blazing orange setting fire to the clouds on the horizon. It was during one of those sunsets that my father's idea of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts moved from my head to my heart.
Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss. But every once in a while you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.
Sherry Stalls was nothing but a whiny, gossipy, backstabbing flirt. All hair and no substance. And there she was holding hands with Bryce. My Bryce. The one who was walking around with my first kiss.
The way she talked about what it felt like to be up in that tree to be held above the earth, brushed by the wind. Who in junior high talks like that? This weird feeling started taking over in the pit of my stomach and I didn't like it.