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Some gifts are no gifts at all, but curses.

03071969 was mine.

'Cause some people can't be saved, no matter your effort.

*

"You're not telling something..." he whispered so low that I nearly didn't catch it. The others didn't. "You've got something about you. Something dark and cold, but lonely too."

I raised an eyebrow. "My aura tells you that I'm lying?"

He shrugged and lit himself a cigarette.

"It's the things you don't see that tell you the most."

"Or the things you don't want to see."

He didn't reply, but I could see that his mind had wandered off. It might have been the alcohol, but I felt like there was something about him, something peculiar and maybe just maybe he could get a second chance. I shook my head. I shouldn't mess with fate or whatever it was called.

"Can you tell me my future?"

I looked at him. Where did that come from?

"What do you mean?"

He didn't reply again. I observed him closer. He seemed off, but not like he had drunk too much. I strongly suspected that he was high, but I could be wrong I didn't know him and alcohol had a different effect on everybody.

"Death is standing right behind you."

I nearly chocked on my cigarette.

Mick laughed. "Brian, are you trying to scare her off again? Keith won't be happy about it. I think he likes her."

Brian ignored him. "He's not after you. He's your friend. So what does he tell you?"

Just a small preview for my new story, hope you liked it! 

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Out of Time [Brian Jones]Where stories live. Discover now