LUCA
- Reads 1,014
- Votes 60
- Parts 14
Ongoing1h 32m
Last published Tue, Sep 22, 2015
He was like a four-leaved clover in a field of grass, beautiful, not just because he was lucky but because he was different.
He was like a patch of fresh snow in a mushy, trodden ice-rink, almost too pure to last.
He was like a voice among a bedlam of screams, quiet but strong all the same.
He was like the last flowers of the season, gone but not quite.
He was everything I ever needed.
But time is such a trickster, isn't it? It shuts the door the moment you think you've figured out the way...
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