A love unscripted
She pressed her fingers against her temples.
Her voice was quick, certain and almost blabbering. Connel's gaze rested on her calmly, his eyes squinted. He let her spill her worries and he moved closer, close enough they seemed tangled.
“A tattoo?” He asked, his tone low and measured.
“Yes,” Ariel paused. “It was that of a needle and thread, like a reminder of a stitch or a scar. She has a scar right on the same wrist where the ink was drawn.”
“A scar.” Connel didn't understand why she was focused on it. “You bump into hundreds of people in this city. Ariel, why does this one matter?” He questioned.