"But I can't walk properly, Seithra."
"And does it means a thing?" Seithra smiled warmly, as a horizontal breeze flew across two bodies those were eyeing on each other. Felith sighed heavily, his hands placed on hers, gripped them slightly while hushing.
"I don't own anything special for you." Felith added.
Seithra looked down, her sight glued at some beige coloured shells beneath the warm sand of the seashore. "Your heart means everything."
Sound of waves echoed between their ears, as the melancholical drips of seawater touches the grasp of their feet.
"Can you believe that I am your servant from the previous life, who sacrificed himself for his queen?" Felith laughed in amusement as he let out those words from his mouth. "Isn't it silly?"
Seithra had a smile plastered on her coral-pink lipsticked lip, while sketching a face of a young lad who looked similar to this guy who sat on his wheelchair beside her. "I do. I believe that in every life, I always had the higher position than you."
YOU ARE READING
Sketchbook
RomanceAn illustration of devotion, passed by the witness of screeches on a sketchbook; withdrawing steps of love encounters on two pure souls.
