Yet another esoteric entry
She likes the smell of coffee in the morning; the touch of her softened comforter on the tips of her toes; the sound of the rain gently tapping on her windows. She swirls the hazelnut cream around in her coffee mug, tinkering her miniture spoon along the edge in symphony in one hand and skimming the latest edition of Vogue in the other.
But where has she gone?
Gone.
But where has she gone?
Gone.