Monologue #1:
Me and Daisy always used to go out in that field. When the summers were humid and the winters were chilling. But we always went to that field.
She would pick those wildflowers back there and tie their stems together. She'd make me stacks and stacks of crowns and necklaces and I would wear every single one at the same time because she would tell me I smelled like freedom.
She would yank up her skirts to her knees and just run--Lord, she would run. Her hair would fly out behind her like a silky golden cape.
And right here--under this tree, here--is where she took her last breath. And do you know what the last thing that she said to me was? She said, "Where are those flowers, Jonny?"
Monologue #2:
In the summers, we would swim.
We'd swim in our ripped jeans and our see-through tee-shirts. Our feet were bare, but then again, they always were.
And she always liked to swim to the very bottom. She told me it was like flying. That was where she felt the most at peace.
So when she dove to the bottom that last summer, and got her hair caught in the rocks and the sticks, she got to stay at peace forever.
Monologue #3:
She liked to take me out in the woods at night. The stars were so much brighter there than they were in the city. Each one reminded me of that sparkle in her eyes.
And the moon would come out just to shine its light on her beautiful face. She would lay down on her back, sprawled out in the grass, look over at me, and grin with the moon lighting up her smile.
But she liked to explore too much. Sometimes she would tell me to close my eyes and count to ten and when I would open them, she would be gone.
It was always fun for her, a thrilling game of hide-and-seek. But i guess I didn't find her quick enough that last time.
I found her laying on her back, sprawled out in the grass, looking over at me with the moon shining down on her beautiful face. But her eyes just didn't have that sparkle that the stars did and she wasn't smiling.
And her heart wasn't beating.
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