For the revelation awaits an appointed time;
it speaks of the end
and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
it will certainly come and will not delay.
In the bridges shes burnt? In the way shes killing herself?
The corridor of his wing of the spacious retirement village was filled with a warm, buttery light, which spilled joyfully into his room, darkening his mood even more. Why should the light be so happy when he wasnt?
His claw-like hands clutched at the pen, trying to form it into a usable shape. He produced harsh scratches on the paper, far from the smooth lines of one without the inconvenience of a crippled limb. He frowned down at the ragged looking piece of paper, angry at the only imperfection of his world. Apart from this, he was content. Complacent.
With disgust, he flung the paper upside down, and proceeded to limp over to his door, and close it forcefully. More content in the darkness, he proceeded to place himself in hi