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The streets of White Roaring grew fangs at night. When the moon dragged a claw and the shop fronts cut dim and those who craved blood walked bold.
There was a greed in his gaze, as if he feared missing the world by giving in to a blink.
She almost felt sorry for him, until he looked up at her and winked slowly, with vanity. “Every good love story starts with a bullet to the heart.”
She was, simply put, a tempest in a bottle, tiny and simmering and ready to obliterate.
She was still a child, but when you saw the cruelty of the world firsthand, you became a little cruel yourself.
