Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • My bedsheets were on the floor when the sound of dust on a record still spinning from the night before woke me. It was 7:29. My alarm clock sounded a minute later; I turned it off towards the end of its crescendo.
    I spent the morning at the Goodwill looking at audio cassettes. I saw a shirt that reminded me of you.
    It's been years and I've still never told you how I feel. I know you wouldn't care.
    I think that you wouldn't.
    I've been told that I don't know what love is, that I'll never know until it's mutual.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.