TO DENY A LUNA
I dropped my gaze and drifted closer to Selene, trying to become smaller somehow, more invisible.
“Come darling, come,” my teacher called out, reaching toward me with one hand. But I stepped back. I didn’t want her to touch me. Her hands smelled awful, like something burnt and damp at the same time, and the sour odor clung to her skin like it lived there. Everything about her made my skin crawl. Her hair puffed out around her head like a sad cloud, and those oversized round glasses magnified her eyes until they looked like two fishbowls perched on her face, too big for her thin features.
Bab Populer