She asks me the same
questions.
Everytime.
"Why do you come here?"
She asks
politely,
but still.
"Because,"
Is my answer.
Words have a way
of getting
mixed up
when
we're
trying
too
hard.
Then,
she waits.
After more
s i l e n c e,
she asks
another
question.
"What's so special?"
She asks.
"I mean, about this place."
Too many
questions.
"You already know,"
I say,
taking in a
deep breath
of all that
s a l t y a i r.
DU LIEST GERADE
Feathers {Story by Briar}
KurzgeschichtenF E A T H E R S Have a way of making everything seem so perfect But are never perfect themselves. Time stops. Hearts race. All is quiet. There is peace hidden within the F E A T H E R S
