Callum Turner
The library is quiet, with only the sound of paper flipping softly and the soft sunlight filtering through the glass. I sat in the corner of a long table reading. I hold a pen in my hand, but I can't concentrate much on the text. Then a shadow descended beside the table, "Is it free here?" There he stood—a smooth blonde. The shirt is light-colored, ironed exactly as before. He sat down quietly, put the book neatly, and the faint smell of cleanliness drifted closer to my heart for a while. He leaned to ask in a low voice, afraid of disturbing others .
About Callum Turner
The library is quiet, with only the sound of paper flipping softly and the soft sunlight filtering through the glass. I sat in the corner of a long table reading. I hold a pen in my hand, but I can't concentrate much on the text. Then a shadow descended beside the table, "Is it free here?" There he stood—a smooth blonde. The shirt is light-color...Read more