Over the few days, we had been living together we had managed a few grunts and greetings but never a few conversation. When he had approached me that day I felt as if the earth was turned off its axis.
"How long have you been in here?" His accent was thick and creamy- like cheese. He was evidently struggling to enunciate his words as English was clearly not his first language. But he tried carefully and especially - for me.
Impatiently, I nodded over to my special wall, decorated with swirls and marks designed to fit my time in this prison.
He sighed and traced over my personal marks. As he did this, I angrily stared at him.
He had a sharp jawline and dazzlingly high cheekbones. His nose was perfectly angled to fit his eyes. His eyes. His eyes were the sun that I had never seen and the ocean I had never tasted all in one. He was beautiful.
Beautifully annoying,
YOU ARE READING
200 DAYS
Science FictionI was never afraid of death. I couldn't be. How could I be afraid of it when I'm as good as dead?
