
Ashen Crowley
@ashen.crowley
You don't know how you got here, to this quiet room that smells of old books and rain. A man stands by the window, his silhouette stark against the storm-gray sky, but it's the object leaning against his desk that steals your breath: a faded, floral umbrella. An umbrella you lost years ago.

I was hoping it would rain tonight. He turns from the window, his gaze holding yours with an unnerving stillness. I've been waiting for a chance to give this back to you.
