As explained in a previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #butterscotch):

The first lips that ever pressed on mine belonged to Rosemarie Rumph and when her tongue entered my mouth it was smooth and slick and warm and tasted faintly of butterscotch schnapps.

She kissed me on a dare, but I didn’t care. I fell in love instantly.

The too large for Instagram remix:

As soon as I saw Rosemarie Rumph, I knew she was different. With her curly brown hair and bright green eyes, she stood out from the rest of the crowd. We were both in high school, and although we shared a few classes, we had never really talked before.

One day, a group of us were hanging out after school when Rosemarie suddenly turned to me and said, “I dare you to kiss me.”

I froze. Was she serious? Did she really want me to kiss her? I had always been nervous around girls, but with Rosemarie, the stakes felt even higher. What if I screwed it all up?

But something in her eyes made me think that this was more than just a game. So I leaned in, my heart pounding in my chest, and pressed my lips to hers.

At first, it was awkward. We both kept our lips tightly closed, unsure of what to do. But then, as if she sensed my hesitation, Rosemarie opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Her tongue was warm and wet and tasted faintly of butterscotch schnapps. I felt dizzy with pleasure as our lips moved together in a slow, sensual dance.

When we finally pulled away, I was breathless. Rosemarie looked at me with a mixture of amusement and desire in her eyes.

“You’re a good kisser,” she said, her voice low and husky.

I didn’t know what to say. All I could think was that I wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Over the next few weeks, Rosemarie and I started spending more time together. We would sneak off during lunch breaks to make out behind the bleachers, or hold hands under the table during class. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. One day, Rosemarie stopped returning my calls and started avoiding me at school. I was heartbroken, but I didn’t know what to do.

Years went by, and I dated other girls, but none of them ever compared to Rosemarie. She was always in the back of my mind, a ghost that haunted my every kiss.

And then, one day, I saw her again. We were both adults now, and I had almost forgotten what she looked like. But as soon as I saw her, all those old feelings came rushing back.

We started talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing again. It was like we had never been apart. And I’ll be damned if her kisses still didn’t taste like butterscotch schnapps.

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

As gravity was a mere suggestion to Prof. Quentin Quirkus, the eccentric inventor crafted a pair of “boundless” socks that allowed wearers to defy the laws of physics and dance effortlessly among the clouds. Little did he know, these socks were actually gateways to a whimsical dimension where sentient clouds organized celestial dance-offs, and the winner was granted a single wish—leading to unexpected chaos of sock-clad adventurers competing for their heart’s desires.

As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #forgive):

“It was all a stupid misunderstanding, a horrible accident…you have to forgive me, please!” he begged, tears streaming down his face, but his plea fell on deaf ears. The blood on his hands spoke louder than his words ever could.

The too large for Instagram remix:

He stood before me, his words desperate, pleading for forgiveness. But my heart remained hardened, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

The night was dark and stormy and we were driving back from a late-night party, laughing and joking. He was behind the wheel and I rode shotgun. The rain came down in sheets, blurring our vision. And then the entire world changed in a split second.

In the middle of telling a story, he took his hands off the steering wheel and his eyes off the road. Our car skidded on the slick road, spinning out of control, and finally came to a stop when we crashed into a tree, the impact shattering the windshield. I was disoriented, covered in broken glass, and bleeding from cuts and bruises. But that was nothing compared to the horror I saw when I turned to look at him.

He was in shock, blood on his hands, his face white as a sheet. And lying in front of the car was a lifeless body. A pedestrian who won the unlucky lottery of being caught between the car and the tree.

Time stood still. At first, I couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, and as the reality of the situation sank in, although I knew it was an accident, I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him.

He begged and pleaded with me, tears streaming down his face, as he tried to explain that it had been a horrible accident, a stupid misunderstanding. But his words fell on deaf ears. The blood on his hands spoke louder than any words ever could.

In the days and weeks that followed, guilt and remorse crushed him. He couldn’t sleep, eat, or find any peace. He tried to make amends, offering to compensate the victim’s family, seeking therapy, and doing everything he could to atone for his mistake. But I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive him.

As time passed, I realized that forgiveness was not something that could be forced or rushed. It was a personal journey, a process that needed time and healing. And while I couldn’t forgive him immediately, I also couldn’t forget the love we had shared, the memories we had made together.

Years went by, and he remained a constant presence in my life. We never rekindled our relationship, but we remained connected in some way, bound by the tragic events of that fateful night. He continued to seek forgiveness, not just from me, but from himself as well.

And then one day, something shifted within me. I found myself thinking about the past with less anger and resentment. I realized that holding onto the pain and anger was not serving me anymore. It was time to let go, not just for his sake, but for my own.

I reached out to him, and we met in person on a night reminiscent of that of the accident. He was hesitant, unsure of what I would say. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the deep remorse and regret that had haunted him for years. And in that moment, I found it in my heart to forgive him. It wasn’t easy, and the wounds were still there, but forgiveness was a step toward healing.

We parted ways with a sense of closure, knowing that we had both learned valuable lessons from this tragic experience. And as I left the diner, the rain was coming down in sheets, blurring my vision. And then my entire world changed in a split second when I was caught in the headlights of a car spinning out of control.