012

Looking out the crumbly half painted window of their barely furnished haven. The room they call home with scribbled scraps and acid faded film develops they call art. The sky is melting into hues of blood berries and tangerine trees. Their sighs swim through this amalgam, it feels like a supernova moment about to escape. It's really only the warming sun greeting another placid night.

 

Owen

Do you feel this?

Lorelei

Yea, i can see it.

Owen

Not with your eyes but your palms.

Lorelei

My hands are gray in doubt, I dont feel a thing.

Owen

I wish we had met sooner.