What's a home? I remember having one, a very long time ago... But now, I don't even know if I can consider the apartment I share with my brother like a "home". After all, it's only a service accommodation the militaries lend him. Nothing less, nothing more. It wasn't our furnitures, there wasn't any pics of us, nothing personal in the few rooms of the apartment... So, I don't consider it as home.
To me, a home is something comfy, which reflects the owner. It would be friendly, it would smell... Home. Personally, there would be many bookcases too. Our apartment is cold, I don't like it, and it doesn't smell anything. The only books I own are stacked on the nightstand.
However I can't complain, I have somewhere to live, with my brother, I know there is a place where I can sleep. It's not as if I am in the streets, that's why I can't really say anything about that....
The only home I remember having a long time ago, well I don't own it anymore. The cosy mansion of my teacher Laetitia doesn't see that friendly and warm anymore, because something is missing. Her daughter, my friend, Katy.
Home is not home if someone important is absent. Of course, it doesn't apply for our apartment, as it's not home. I still wait to find the "amazing person" you talked about in your last words, my friend, but it's hard for me to forget you...
- Karen Mustang -
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Wind of hope {FMA OC fanfiction} - UNFINISHED
FanfictionThe world where I am born is cruel. My country, this so small country, Amestris, is leaded by war, in hope peace would come one day. My first friendship was ruined by this world, by this life. Why does sickness exist? Why does pain exist? But even s...
