I don’t understand why she is crying. One minute she was shouting – her hands balled up in fists – and the next thing you know, her face crumpled and leak. And as she sat there, head bowed, her hair shielding most of her face, I just sat and stared at her. I stared as the tears
In my future home, I would have bookshelves that reached the ceilings. So many books that one would need a ladder to get from one end to the other. The smell of parchment and leather. Dim lighting and pillows for the reading corner. Tea. Earl grey with brown sugar – lots of brown
