Her dark hair was swept back in a loose ponytail of soft curves. Her ivory skin was smooth on the chiffon black that hung in a short skirt framing it. Next to her, a small red bottle was smashed on the floor, with clear red oil dribbling onto the white rug. Shaking, she picked up a shard of the broken glass, and shivering and sobbing she stroked the fragment against the pearl of her skin. She sighes as the scarlett shimmered, mixing with her tears as the thrill of attention wished adrenaline filled her emptying veins.

Your words force the me to find my own sticks and stones...

The End

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