He drifted up from the depths of sleep, content to lie curled in warm safety. The light was softened by the spring-green foliage of the tree outside the window, casting ever-moving shadows on the pale walls. A light breeze brought scents of the climbing rose outside the window, and the rustle and chirp of busy small birds was peaceful. Eyes
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Comments 17
Reminds me of the ending of Terry Gilliam's Brazil ... ow. Strong stuff.
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I love it - it's deliciously ambiguous in the best possible way. Thank you!
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And definitely slash - surely that's Doyle's embrace, that is?! *g*
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