Re: By the stage
Was the tangled shatter of a ghost mirror on the sandy carpet, the pile of barely there boxes, the empty sting of loneliness, the clothes strewn in a graveyard of black, gray and blood red with an out-of-place carnation, a half-dead koto with splintered wood that mimicked sorcerers coffin, count as moved in?
"Pretty much." answered the shade, moistened her liqueur-hungry lips. The empty stomach was knock-knock-knocking on her hearts door. It was only that she sought to escape not her immediate reality, or the company she was very much enjoying, only herself, you see. "The truth serum in me says I mostly don't mind who lives..." she unconsciously reached for an empty... oh, oops. She put it back down. "... lives there."