It was a rainy day, in New York no less.
One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop.
One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment.
short story #98
poetry #51
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It was a rainy day, in New York no less.
One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop.
One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment.
short story #98
poetry #51
I can remember the fear of the tree falling in front of my car, after it was struck by lightning. I can remember how it felt, cold rain on a summer afternoon pounded on my skin as I stepped out of my...