Dropped from Heaven
Pack of Seaweedi gave him ten years, he gave my place to his first lovethis time the tears were minelike a handprint on my heartbullied by my stepbrother: claimed by his touch
That afternoon, the sun in Florentine was just right. The antiques shop was perfectly quiet and serene, with only the minuscule sounds being made from the repair work being done at the work table.
When the windchimes rang, I didn't even raise my head.
"Sorry, we aren't taking any more orders today."
The footsteps didn't leave, only coming closer and stopping right in front of my table.
A shadow cast itself over me, bringing with it the familiar scent of tobacco.