Franny Glass 소설 & 이야기

“No!” The glass broke.

"But I don't think her mood swings had anything to do with the broken glass." "Then?" Alexander raised an eyebrow. Frans let out a long sigh. He could already guess that what Yasmin had done had caused Cassandra to lose control, leading to her accidentally dropping the glass. If Cassandra had accidentally dropped it for any other reason and hadn't seen him and Yasmin, the broken glass would have been closer to the sink or the fridge. Not near the doorway like it was now. "I'm sure that right now, Cassandra and Yasmin are discussing something related to us. I'm the same. Let's talk about this in the living room!" Frans suggested, motioning for Alexander to go first after they finished cleanin

But the weight of my to-do list clouds my thoughts. I’m already running late, but I push the frustration aside. There’s work to be done. Pastries to bake, orders to fill. I can’t screw this up. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t see him coming. Suddenly, his shoulder knocks into mine, a rush of warmth that leaves me breathless. The flour bag slips from my hands, and in an instant, it bursts open, sending a cloud of white powder swirling around us. The flour settles like snow, dusting his dark hair and the sharp angles of his face, as if he’s crowned in frost. The thick, comforting scent of flour fills the air, mixing with the crisp chill around us. As the cloud of flour drifts down

Delaney My ears are ringing from the explosion, and the windows of the car have all cracked. My head is a pounding mess, and I’m having a hard time seeing things clearly. Goddess, was the explosion meant to be that way? I look around at the car. Francesca is raising her head too, and I notice that there’s a piece of glass lodged on her hairline. I gasp, and point at it. “Francesca.” She frowns, and then she brings up her hand and feels the glass. Her face is a mask of horror, and she says to me, “By the goddess, don’t look.”

The night is so cold that I feel my bones freezing. I sit up on my bed and stair out of the window. There are sheer curtains draped in front of it but I see right through it. “Can’t sleep?” a quiet voice speaks It's the girl in glasses who was reading. “Yeah” i respond “Are you really an Anorem?” she asks with curiosity “I was… until now” “Oh” “Yeah” The conversation drops into an awkward silence for a few seconds.

He chuckles and I give him a halfhearted smile. “I’ll be right back.” He says, walking towards two girls who just sat at the counter. I release my auburn red hair from the band that was holding it up, allowing the curly waves to fall down my back. “Much better.” “So, what do you want this evening?” Franks asks me coming back from serving the girls their order, while cleaning a wine glass before putting it into the shelve with the other glasses he has cleaned, and-not surprisingly-he had a small piece of paper in his hands. Did I mention girls are always drooling over him and keep slipping him their numbers?

The tapping came again, sharper this time. He stood up, swaying a little, and walked over to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and froze. Jax stared, heart slamming against his ribs and shocked by who was climbing through the window. “Do you miss me, baby?”

“The Glass Room. The sessions. You watched it all.” She leaned in. “And it was beautiful. The moment she played the piano? Her grief was peaking. Her synaptic resonance was off the charts. Do you understand what that kind of pain can be used for?” He stepped back. “You turned her into a puppet.” Granger didn’t deny it. Adrien had heard enough. Without another word, he reached into his coat and tossed a small device onto her desk, a miniature drive, blinking red. Granger raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

You don’t get to punish me for not breaking the way you expected. I am not yours anymore. And if that burns you, good. Because your touch doesn’t make me feel special. It makes me feel sick. And just so you know? Bad angle for kissing. #TheGlassWife #PagesIllDeleteLater #IDoesntBelongToYou #BadKisser”

It felt like being watched. From the walls. From the glass. From something too old to fit inside a room. The first window shattered. Not all at once. A hairline crack raced across the tall pane overlooking the city, then another, then another, until the reinforced glass groaned and split in great jagged fractures. Wind knifed in, cold and sharp, dragging curtains outward. The noise brought footsteps. Voices. Doors opening. “Althea!” Hiraya’s voice, somewhere down the hall.