Beautiful old ink life.
Eyes half closed, Miyuki runs his inky fingers over the battered and stained old wooden table.
One last time.
But it won't be the last time he will see it.
flash fiction
Beautiful old ink life.
Eyes half closed, Miyuki runs his inky fingers over the battered and stained old wooden table.
One last time.
But it won't be the last time he will see it.