(no subject)

[bride-beatrice.livejournal.com]

She walks downstairs. It would sound better if her cowboy boots had spurrs on them. The sound is hollow. Not unlike her eyes or her heart.

She carries a notebook and a bunch of felt-tip pens down with her. Finds a place at the bar.

"Tall glass of water." She orders. It appears. She sips from it and begins to write.