Its warm and cozy near the fireplace. The softness of the black leather sofa adds comfort to the warmth. Sally's crouched up on the floor in front of the fire, the orange red glow of the flames reflected in her drowsy eyes, heavy and sore from her ordeal. Her eyes seemed fixed on the red bricks beneath the ashes.
"Do all houses have stoves like this one?" Sally asks in a low lazy voice.
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love there, that simple complicated crazy feeling you can have for all kinds of people. The feeling that makes everything possible. Their love will support them and help them get through the years of suffering. But only question continues to linger in my mind: How many more years do they have to endure before they are able to live their own life? They will certainly be able to do it, but the question is "when"?
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