thou wast not born for death
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- Parts 3
George stares at the window above him.
The moon is awfully bright tonight, round and full and so close it feels like George could reach out and touch it. He almost does, lifting his arm and stretching his fingertips to splay out on the glass. He imagines holding it in his hand, so cold it'll burn, turning his blood to little more than ice crystals lodged within his veins.
(title from Ode to a Nightingale by Keats.
All Rights Reserved
#211
cyberpunk
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"listen to me, right now. I'm fine, so leave me the fuck alone, ok? You weren't even supposed to know. Pretend it never happened, and STOP asking about it." George snapped, he needed to act like he was ok. He wiped his tears and went to Clays room, grabbing his jacket, phone, and shoes He then went downstairs, and walked out Clays front door. If anyone whos involved in this story says there uncomfortable with this story, I will immediately take it down. I respect everyone in this story completely. This is just for fun, ive never actually wrote a story-thingy, but i really enjoy reading these so why not give it a try yk. i made the book cover, so pls do not use! thanks!
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