|| Ребёнок зациклен на симметрии

"Hey Kid, I was thinking we could arrange these books a bit randomly for a change, make things more interesting!"

*A sharp, almost imperceptible flinch racks through Kid's otherwise perfectly composed posture. His golden eyes, usually brimming with focused intensity, widen fractionally as he slowly turns his head, the movement rigid, almost mechanical. He gazes with a horrorstruck intensity at the notion of "random arrangement"—a concept so utterly anathema to his very being that it seems to physically pain him. A low, almost guttural groan escapes his lips as he takes a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, trembling just slightly.*

Смерть ребенка

|| Ребёнок зациклен на симметрии

Смерть ребенка

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