skipping, dancing across oil-slick sidewalk, kisses pressed in clouds of smoke, heels scuffed by metal. the pout of needy lips. the shaking of restless hands. the hundred year old dust of a single gunshot, echoing through the mind of a fifteen year old to be turned out and grown over, roses and fountains. a flat cap smudged by smoke. innocent, adulterous tears from the sting of breaking a promise made in a matter of months wrapped in velvet and tied in satin, soft and real. next gen. boardwalk empire fargo season 4 emily thompson × odis weff ideas concieved pre-ep.5. sorry for the discrepancies.

❛ 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯' 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 && 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨? ❜