All the usual disclaimers apply: I don't own Castle, never will, and certainly have no chance of ever profiting from it.
Indelible
Words have power. He's known this since his mother first put a pencil into his fist and taught him how to write his name. Most of his work is done electronically now, but that wasn't always the case. He's written on napkins, on take-out menus, hell, on his own skin when he had to.
He opens the journal and creases back the stiff new pages. The pen feels heavy in his hand, but the tip flies over the paper, scoring thick black lines across the creamy white expanse, shaping the words that he can never take back.
I love her.