That moment you discover the “18 years old” thing and well.
Now this is sad.
~There was a red hat on the shelf she could barely remember, but she put it on, worried that the red might make her face look washed out and sallow. She looked in the mirror. She looked just fine. She tipped the hat at a jauntier angle.
Outside the last of the smoke from the black snake-wound brazier drifted on the chilly November air.
- The November Tale -