It's a Wonderful Death

"Are they always the same?"

"Not exactly the same."

"But they share a theme?"

"Sort of."

"And what is that theme Alex?"

Alex stood up and went behind the couch. He started to pace. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. His armpits felt damp. His scalp felt hot like he wore a wig. He glanced at the clock. He still had twenty minutes left.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)