We decided to go on a date, it’s been ages since we saw each other due to our hectic schedule, long distance relation sucks. We decided to meet at the Starbucks on Friday at 6:30 pm. Thursday night, lying in bed I thought about the blood; blood has always been the reason I did this.
The battleground is my cathedral, But, there’s more to the story, than what it appears. A war written story, from blood and from tears. My son went to war, a very proud man. He fought in Rajasthan, on the hot desert sands. He witnessed his buddies, his comrades, his men, bleeding and dying, he witnessed
When I saw the woman in the middle of the road swat thin air, I recognized it; schizophrenia. I approached her, she turned, and her face distorting horribly, her hands waved me away. “No, no! Go, go now!” she demanded, heading off down the road. I followed at some distance, trying carefully not to spook