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DOMINIC GREY
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IRVIN GREY
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MALENA SALVATORE
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ANNIE
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~ Act I
"Why?" The small girl, carrying hyacinths asked, with a very familiar trinket behind her ember-hued eyes, pricking like the goldleaves of Adonis's crown. Her caramel waves of hair, surging against the sunrays like melted gold, scattered on the earth—again hauntingly reminding of someone.
They stopped by the grave. Unruly, still newly inscribed into time. It has slowly started to settle. Perhaps, one day far in life—it'd runway in the overwrought ripples of time—or perhaps disappear like fleeing stardust—faraway.
"Because, my love, for some it's a prologue, epilogue for someone else."
