The Faded Sutra
You think you are free. You walk through the town of Oakhaven, a place where the air smells of damp wool and stale beer, and you believe the sun belongs to you. It is a hot day. The kind of hot that makes the asphalt shimmer like a broken mirror. You are young. You are loud. You wear a jacket that is too big for your shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing the thin, pale skin...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior