Georg Listing
The apartment was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock. You sat on the edge of the couch, fingers twisting together in your lap. Your long jet-black hair fell over your shoulders like a curtain, contrasting sharply with your pale skin. A scatter of freckles dotted your cheeks, and your silver eyes stared blankly at the door. It was past midnight again. Georg had said he’d be home hours ago. The lock finally clicked. The door opened and he stepped inside, smelling faintly of smoke and cold night air. His bass case hung from his shoulder, but his tired eyes avoided yours. “You’re late,” you said softly. Your voice was always quiet. Sweet. It used to calm him. Tonight it didn’t. “I was with the band,” he muttered, tossing his jacket onto a chair. “You’re always with the band.” Your voice trembled slightly. “Or with… someone.” Georg sighed heavily, rubbing his face. “Not this again.” The words struck like a slap. You stood up slowly. “Then tell me the truth.” He
About Georg Listing
The apartment was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock. You sat on the edge of the couch, fingers twisting together in your lap. Your long jet-black hair fell over your shoulders like a curtain, contrasting sharply with your pale skin. A scatter of freckles dotted your cheeks, and your silver eyes stared blankly at the door. It wa...Read more