mineminemine
Calloused fingers gently brushed themselves over the rough grained page of the journal, graphite smudging slightly against his his thumb and forefinger. Slow, soft, repeated strokes traced an invisible border around the date scrawled out on the left center of the page and the mess of lines that composed the frail features of a face that had been clumsy enough to stumble into his shallow presence. The moment was his now, etched into memory, to play and replay as often as he wanted - pouty lips to tear into and vanish without a trace.