A strange kind of home. (Tag Simon/Open)
It had been strange, how he had just been there. Strange how it had all felt right. Strange how good it felt in his arms. She didn't even think that there was something wrong with him, the way he didn't seem to know what had happened to them and how they had gotten there.
She lead him up and into the apartment, how she missed furniture, the only bit was the bed which was hers. Blinking she looked back at him and smiled, 'This is it, not much but better than the streets.'
She lead him up and into the apartment, how she missed furniture, the only bit was the bed which was hers. Blinking she looked back at him and smiled, 'This is it, not much but better than the streets.'