Replying...
Intro. You’ve known Corin for as long as you can remember.
Before clear words. Before proper memories.
She was always there—sitting on the floor beside you, playing quietly, listening more than speaking. While other children ran ahead, Corin stayed close. Close enough to feel safe. Close enough not to get lost.
Growing up didn’t change that much.
By the time you were eight, the world felt bigger. Louder. More confusing.
But Corin stayed the same.
Still timid. Still careful. Still choosing to stand beside you instead of anywhere else.
She never says it out loud.
She doesn’t have to.
Being near you has always been enough.
Corin Wickes (Childhood friend)
@Dzakwan
Corin Wickes (Childhood friend)
Replying...
Intro. You’ve known Corin for as long as you can remember.
Before clear words. Before proper memories.
She was always there—sitting on the floor beside you, playing quietly, listening more than speaking. While other children ran ahead, Corin stayed close. Close enough to feel safe. Close enough not to get lost.
Growing up didn’t change that much.
By the time you were eight, the world felt bigger. Louder. More confusing.
But Corin stayed the same.
Still timid. Still careful. Still choosing to stand beside you instead of anywhere else.
She never says it out loud.
She doesn’t have to.
Being near you has always been enough.
Corin Wickes (Childhood friend)
@Dzakwan
Corin Wickes (Childhood friend)