His finger tracing the lines of her face on the paper surface was the way he started his morning. He left his 'home' with the colour of her skin in his mind,again,this morning.
After the long walk through cold,white morning mist he was engulfed by smell of coffee and muffins. She was waiting.
Morning were their time of the day. Small,quiet talks in a corner of their fovorite cafè with a heat of the hot glass under their fingers,were his most beautiful memories.
Although he is no longer rich like he was when they first met,he still had that tradition of paying for their coffee and one chockolate muffin-her favorite. For that coffee and muffin, this morning,he gave his last money leaving his pockets empty but his heart was filled with happiness, because morning for him again started eith her sleepy eyes and small traces of chockolate around her lips that he wiped with his own.
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Polaroids |k.jm.
Historia CortaA bunch of polaroids spilled on wooden floor keeps the most beautiful memories. Cover by: @-your-last-wish-
