STEPPING OUT of the cafe, Walter pulled the grey hood over his head while the rain pummelled the pavement. His hand waved a taxi down as he continuously flinched in an attempt to not be blinded by the weather.
Eventually getting into the refuge of a taxi, he mumbled some words to the driver, before sinking back into the seat with a sigh. His eyes followed nature's teardrops as they messily scattered down the glass, and his mind travelled to how truly bitter things could be.
YOU ARE READING
Hitchhikers And Highways|✔️
General FictionHe has places to run from. She has places to be.
