The dress came alive when worn.
”It’s a scan.”
”But of what?”
Her mirror now showed someone else.
A wilted flower makes most noise.
Iron bends; she flamed the fire.
“Bibliophile’s Achilles heel: books about books!”
“Gone for months; now back again?”
“If love was food, bite me!”
There is a hole in the wall. I don’t always see it, blinded by the sunlight from the window, but when you move, the light moving with you, I see that the hole is there – behind you, hidden, in the wall. For what it’s worth; do you see it, too?
In need of money; will pay!