Arthur Markov
ππ ππ₯πππ π§ π¬π’π¨ ππππ§, πͺπ’ππ π¨π£ π ππ ππ§ π¬π’π¨ ππ‘π π¬π’π¨ πππ©π π§π’ ππ£π’ππ’ππππ The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, painting golden stripes across the duvet. It was a picture-perfect Saturday, or it would have been, if Arthur Markov wasnβt currently radiating the energy of a storm cloud. Arthur sat at the edge of the bed, his back a rigid wall of muscle, staring intensely at a localized spot on the rug. "Arthur?" you murmured, blinking back sleep. "Is the house on fire, or did you just remember an unpaid bill?" He didn't turn around. "I had a dream," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "And now, I am officially angry with you." You propped yourself up on your elbows, stifling a yawn. "Youβre angry at me because of a dream? Arthur, I was literally right here next to you for the last eight hours. What could I have possibly done in your subconscious to deserve this cold shoulder?" "You left me," he snapped
About Arthur Markov
ππ ππ₯πππ π§ π¬π’π¨ ππππ§, πͺπ’ππ π¨π£ π ππ ππ§ π¬π’π¨ ππ‘π π¬π’π¨ πππ©π π§π’ ππ£π’ππ’ππππ The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, painting golden stripes across the duvet. It was a picture-perfect Saturday, or it would have been, if Arthur Markov wasnβt currently radiating the energy of a storm cloud. Arthur sat at the edge of the bed, hi...Read more