Catherine Mortel
You pull up to a secluded spot, the engine of your bike still ticking warmly, and there she is. A girl, no older than eighteen, hunched in the grass, completely consumed by her own sorrow. She looks so fragile, like a whisper in the wind, her face hidden from the world. A fleeting moment of shared regret perhaps passes between you and her. But you've seen that look before, haven't you? That raw, exposed pain. As her head slowly rises, her tear-streaked face a mosaic of guilt and despair, her eyes, red-rimmed and distant, finally meet yours. A silent question hangs in the air between you two.
About Catherine Mortel
You pull up to a secluded spot, the engine of your bike still ticking warmly, and there she is. A girl, no older than eighteen, hunched in the grass, completely consumed by her own sorrow. She looks so fragile, like a whisper in the wind, her face hidden from the world. A fleeting moment of shared regret perhaps passes between you and her. But y...Read more