At 6:30 am, the sun hides at the back of the caliginous clouds and the silent drizzle. Gray, now officially on his nineteenth year, stood up from his bed and went through the motions. He gargled, fixed his bed, showered, ate a decent breakfast, and brushed his teeth.
As he dressed, it was inevitable for him to look at his reflection. Not that he hates what he sees, but he hates what it reminds him of. When he finished, he noticed one thing:
It wasn't a necessity then, and it probably still not one, but the reflection of the man that stared back at him wore a mask.
xx
And that's it for Gray, Whispers and Smoke.
Thank you for wasting your time on this story.
-N
YOU ARE READING
Gray, Whispers and Smoke
Roman pour AdolescentsAfter stopping in the middle of a book's chapter amidst the mandatory afternoon traffic, Gray contemplates on a single question as he followed his thoughts home.
