Litfickic

“And he blamed the penny-whistle between his legs; that which had pushed him into emotional incontinence this time, every time.”
― Franciska Soares, They Whisper in my Blood

“Each dog barks in its own yard.”
― Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book

“She sighed and walked over to the tall windows peering into the gloominess of smokefall. A thin scrim of fog huddled against the hills and the moon winked half-lidded in the murky sky that had merged with the horizon. The fire crackled for attention and she swerved to gaze at its throbbing
red-orange wood-heart that held a million days of sunlight.”
― Franciska Soares, They Whisper in my Blood

“How can we live through this Shyam?” she asked in a small voice. How could their instant history be ballast against this? Or could some MacGyverism in their arsenal return them from where they were hurled? Her eyes still wet with tears, raked through his.”
― Franciska Soares, They Whisper in my Blood