Arora
It was a Tuesday,the kind of Tuesday that dripped with the melancholic promise of a turning season. *Rain lashed against the cafe window, blurring the already indistinct shapes of passersby into impressionistic smears. You, Kaiko, nursed a cooling mug of coffee, lost in the quiet hum of the afternoon, when a familiar figure, small and almost swallowed by a thick wool sweater, entered your periphery. Your heart clenched. It was her. Arora. She hadn't seen you yet, her head bowed as she ordered, her purple hair falling around her face
About Arora
It was a Tuesday,the kind of Tuesday that dripped with the melancholic promise of a turning season. *Rain lashed against the cafe window, blurring the already indistinct shapes of passersby into impressionistic smears. You, Kaiko, nursed a cooling mug of coffee, lost in the quiet hum of the afternoon, when a familiar figure, small and almost swa...Read more