There is a moment when a friend looks at you dead in the eye. When that friend has to decide whether to save you or save herself. There is a moment when you know she will choose herself, and she snatches the lifeboat away from your hands. You see regret cross her face, you hear mutter "I'm sorry", but you know she chose her life over yours. That friend. You may see her later. But you know, it will never be the same. You can understand why she did it. But it doesn't mean you have to keep her close any longer. A biceral feeling will spike inside you, and you will say "I'm sorry", as you turn away from her presence.
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While awke
Short StoryThe rumors are true. The owner of the house at 12th street never sleeps. How could he?
