He was walking down the street, his tattered, black army boots catching on the cracks and the dents in the paving stones. His mind was wandering in that way it often did on days when the weather was cold and the sky so full of cloud that it was impossible to tell where the horizon began. His dark hair was falling in a heavy mop across his eyes, obstructing his sight, until it was flicked out of his way in a weary turn of the head. A woman walked past him, hurrying; they are always going places, he thought. Rafael stopped for a moment and decided she was sad.
YOU ARE READING
Dearest Kit
Teen FictionLana doesn't like the way people fit in, she has never found someone with whom she connects with enough to bear her soul to them. She reaches out to a celebrity, someone whom she's watched on the big screen countless times, in a hopeless attempt to...
