I made a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen island, pouring over what Phoenix had told me last night. The pot filled slowly as I thought, too slow for my liking. I waited for the small pot to be done brewing and filled my travel mug to capacity. I rhythmically added cream and sugar and took a sip of my coffee slowly, savoring it. I sat on the couch and closed my eyes, my mind taking me back to the day of Phoenix's funeral. It was a rainy September morning, and it was beyond freezing. Knowing what I know now... I don't know how they made that day possible.
YOU ARE READING
Deception
Historia Corta"Love, relax. Christ, what has gotten into you?" He says, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, trying to calm you down. He pulls you close, your head buried in his chest. You cried out, refusing to believe that he was here. You pushed him awa...
