Historia completamente original escrita por @Ross-rick ⚠PROHIBIDA SU COPIA O ADAPTACIÓN ⚠ *La mayoría de los personajes NO me pertenecen son creación de Claire Zamora* Al recordar el día de mi muerte sólo podía pensar en dolor y sangre... Pero sobre todo en sangre. Él me encontró y cuido de mi, que yo siguiera con vida era un milagro.

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

Virginia es una misteriosa y solitaria joven que solo desea pasar desapercibida en una nueva ciudad. No obstante, cuando su mirada se encuentra con la figura de un distinguido muchacho de alargados ojos oscuros postrado en el quinto pasillo de la biblioteca pública arrancando con furia las últimas hojas de los libros; todo parece cambiar dentro de ella. ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ Entra a la historia Para leer SINOPSIS COMPLETA ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛ EN PAUSA HASTA NUEVO AVISO

"-Sabes - la miró - deja que se rían de lo patética que crees que eres, al final de cuentas todos terminamos igual - dio una calada a su cigarro y dejo escapar el humo - En un boulevard de los sueños rotos" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Estas son algunas frases sacadas del libro de boulevard que al leer me gustaron y las anote. Tengo el permiso de la escritora del libro en publicarlas aquí. Usuario de la escritora de boulevard: @ekilorhe