51: Taste
The taste in my mouth was morning taste even though it was the middle of the night. The taste of the water from the cup Luke had on the floor next to him was pure and fresh and reminded me of the water fountain that gushed in his yard. I had noticed it when I ran out the first time. That was when I had been relishing the taste of freedom.
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Stockholm Syndrome
General FictionI didn't want to. I wouldn't. I won't. But suddenly I was doing it. I didn't even register my feet hitting the fourteen steps it took to get up the stairs. My brain ignored the ninth step and how creaky and loud it was. And then I was there. Finding...
