Alfred sat in that empty house, staring at the mirror for what seemed like eternity. This small house, his home for almost two years, felt as empty and lifeless to him as the gold shirt he wore on his chest. He used it now lie he used his tools, as a disguise and a sham. It served his lies well, and provided him shelter when he needed it. But it
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Comments 3
Stumbled upon your LJ, just felt like dropping a note to say that I've enjoyed reading the fiction. :)
Kathryn
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I write when I feel inspired to. This particular post was so strong I had to write it down on computer paper at work before getting home to post it!
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I've had times where I've had posts stuck in my head and couldn't concentrate well on other things till I'd written them out. :)
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