Maybe, she thought, staring at one of the barn’s many walls, it’ll blend in with the paint. Then, it dawned on her. The knife fell from Angelica’s hand, and onto the hay-bedded ground.
By lianna3 years ago in Fiction
My second heart is gold. At least it used to be. Now, the delicate shell was peeled away in bits, only the weak, tarnished metal peeking through.