Ding ding ding.... ding ding ding... ding ding ding...
BAM BAM BAM
Damain grinned at the stupid, though no longer malfunctioning, music toy and tossed his gun away. Milani had left the little box with him; she hoped it would calm him down. Obviously, it didn't. The man hummed and examined the holes the machine. He slid slowly from the couch to the floor, onto his back and held it up to the light.
It was beautiful, in a mangled twisted way. Was this what Milani saw in him? Something that was perfect, now mangled? He had never been perfect. He stuck a finger through one of the holes. What was this?
This was him. This was what he had been made.
He smiled and held the little black box to his chest. Love? Never. Keep? For ever and always. That's what it is to be...
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Behind the Facade
Strange things from the recesses of my mind.
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