Her index finger urged the glasses to remain in position; it was hard enough to read being as tired as she was. But Cirxe couldn't stop. Zexion threatened to exclude her from his experiments if she didn't finish. But the words kept slipping away. Cirxe chased them...chased them until they convinced her into the darkness.
Delicate fingers catch the glasses before they slip from her nose. The book is eased away and placed back on the shelf, horizontal, so that the glasses are able to guard it. A small laugh ruffles her hair, and footsteps echo in the silence.














Critiques
Thank you for your Critique
You are not logged in.