Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
The only light in the apartment came from the streelights and the bluish glow of the numbers on the VCR. I could see no colors at all.
A few feet away, Ziggy slept in the grand centerpiece bed, under a snow white duvet, his closed, lined eyes and tousled dark hair like slashes of urgent calligraphy.
I didn’t want to wake him. But I knew I shouldn’t just stand there at the window having a downward spiral, either.( Read the rest of this entry » )