In the midst of divorces, shattering remains of broken hearts, scars of iron on pregnant bellies, a promiscuity born of a broken illusory sanctity, she found herself irredeemably in the tight grasp of love. She blew bubbles in the stern face of reality trying to block her view.
They walked in the cold streets of the evening. The cars whizzed past them and the leaves on the trees crackled and rustled in the cold wind heralding the bitter winter that was to engulf two warm green hearts. Like the road beside them that ran ceaseless through the night without stopping for a breathe, they too let themselves run headlong into a bottomless pit.
Freefalling is a scary addictive idea.
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