Only When We Close Our Eyes
The person they crave the most might not be real to their conscious.
©queenofapology
I do not own any of the famous/well-known beings in this story. It is completely fictional made up in my mind.
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One
. . . October Smith wept herself to sleep. -
Two
. . . "Don't be sad. I'm here now," -
Three
. . . "What would the hobo say?" . . . "He would say to open your eyes." -
Four
. . . "Didn't you already sleep . . . like three times?" -
Five
. . . "Or something," -
Six
. . . "Spell silk," -
Seven
. . . Something needed to be done about this. -
Eight
. . . "Getting some beauty sleep before the big night, eh?" -
Nine
. . . "Dressed like a girl," -
Ten
. . . "My granmother's sixty seventh birthday party was better than this," -
Eleven
. . . "This," Ryan swallowed, dreading to say the rest. -
Twelve
. . . ""Dirty? Like naughty dreams? Am I in them?" -
Thirteen
. . . And a bracelet missing from his wrist.