Love You After You Died
Through the slit window stars burned, merciless and clear.
She drew the nightshade vial from her boot, rolling it between trembling fingers. *One drop can still a breath. One vial can shift a board of kings.* Yet vengeance felt distant as the moon.
Instead, she uncorked it, poured a single drop onto the collar’s hinge. Metal hissed, corroding. She smiled faintly—*small steps, little star.*
A low growl sounded—the shaggy hound squeezed through the bars, curling at her side like before. She rested her head against his fur.
Bab Populer