In Victor Hugo' study

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He was sitting at the desk, she was embroidering by the fireplace. She stopped and lifted her eyes. All she could see was his head slightly bent forward. There had been silence for a while in the room.
"Are you writing, my love?" she asked.
"No", he uttered with a broken voice, "I'm bleeding", a teardrop splashing over the black ink on the ivory paper. 

 

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Mind the Gap (by Noor Lung) EnglishWhere stories live. Discover now