House 40
The walls are bare apart from still clinging scraps of paper, but the door is no more.
You start rubbing your hands against the surface.
It's warm. It feels like skin.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro
The walls are bare apart from still clinging scraps of paper, but the door is no more.
You start rubbing your hands against the surface.
It's warm. It feels like skin.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro