The Dark Side Of The Sun Essay
Footsteps tread through the pathway, rolling up dust from each step and covering the bare feet in a new layer of smoldering brown. Folding my arms up, I bend my face down into the crease. Someone sighs, crouching down sitting cross legged beside me. Reaching out they begin to slowly run their hand along my back, I roll away onto my stomach and look up at them with glaring eyes.
Abram looks down at me with his faint smile; his grey eyes catch the light and fill with the warmth of a smile, his ash blonde hair falls flatly to the nape of his neck, and his porcelain pale skin displays fresh red scratches down the length of his arms. The look in his eyes always remains the same, unquestioning devotion, and each time I see that shallow smile I remember that not everyone in the world is as destroyed as we believe.