“I’ll do it,” she said. “But I’m not finishing anything.”
The woman—her name was Delia—looked up, mascara bleeding. “I stopped writing letters to my sister. Eight years ago. After the fight.” jecca jacobs
“We think finishing is the point,” she said. “But finishing is just a story we tell ourselves to feel safe. The truth is, nothing is ever finished. Not a life. Not a love. Not a song. The best we can do is keep showing up for the next beginning.” “I’ll do it,” she said
Jecca shrugged. “I just hate seeing things half-done.” “I’ll do it
Jecca Jacobs had always been a collector of unfinished things.