It was a vivid dream, but not in the sense of bright, lurid things. Events were all too ordinary. From a school at the edge of a cliff: a stern voice, hiding warmth. Yelling down at the barren, dusty path. A well-meaning task. But there wayward we…a bloom of wild, stubborn hearts…

Published by Tonyyy

twitter.com/sirmorose tumblr.com/sirmorose instagram.com/sir.morose

%d bloggers like this: