The scent of a cigarette makes me feel safe.
When there was only one man who left tracks of mud in the house I was a little more happy.
Because that man talked to me.
That man didn't hurt me like the other ones do.
He didn't smell every inch of my body.
He didn't whisper sweet nothings into my ear just so I wouldn't fight when they tried to unbutton my shorts.
He would let me lay on his lap and the smell of cigarettes and deep humming would make me feel so safe that I could dream.
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of Sixteen Cranes
RandomThis is a story about a boy. A world with only a boy. Only one name. One character but no protagonist. This is a story about two boys. A world with billions of people. Only two names, but it ends at sixteen cranes.
