white lace ≫ l.h.

prologue

The cold November wind carried a few bright orange leaves against the pavement brushing them by my dark brown boots. I trapped one hopeless little fellow underneath the sole of my boot and started twisting my foot creating a dark damp spot underneath the pressed leaf that now had a hole in the middle. My thoughts were always easily diverted and one small idea always led to another. The already dead leaf in which I had just murdered twice led me to think of my physics grade and how my mom would most likely kill me if she found out I had a B-. The thought of her killing me made me realize that she wouldn't want my smelly corpse lying in the middle of her living room where I usually told her "stuff", and how she would probably throw my dead body all the way across southeast Europe where it would submerge into the bottom of the Black Sea. And physics, well, that led me to think of Luke Hemmings, the guy who sat all the way across the other side of the class, but always seemed to make me feel like I was sitting inches away from his quiet, naive, and blond headed self.