It felt hot. It was hot. She was convinced it was. And it was true.
No book has ever done this to her. Not so late at chapters, at least. The sweat dripping all the way down her forehead made her feel at ease.
She wasn't crying for real at least! Or so she was convinced.
At the upteenth time wiping the upteenth tear, unintendedly slowing her paced reading she felt a tap on the shoulder and shivered. She closed the book and put it right in its place before escaping the room. She knew it was dark outside the room and even outdoors, but she could care less.
Locking the last door, he knew exactly what white book must he read at his next visit in seven hours.
...
YOU ARE READING
The Color Deaf
RandomA story about two, whose only way to communicate was touch. Marsia enjoyed letting someone with stained canvases and thick brushes draw in front of her in silence, even though the two of them weren't 'good' when it came to colors. He'd color the gr...
