Travellling mind of Damian

A moan.

Soft. Unintended.

I freeze, my gray eyes snapping to her face, and for the first time since sitting here, her focus falters. The pen slips in her fingers, her sketch trembling with the motion.

Slowly, she glances at me, her cheeks flushed, lips parted like she’s about to speak but can’t fin...

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