Therrus tried to quiet his heavy breathing, back pressed to the door, hands bound before him. He attempted, again, to pull apart the bindings. Stars, these are tight. How do they have access to such advanced restraints? He’d been led to believe that monitoring these particular humans would be simple.
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Beauty is as essential as breath to me. Art is my bread and meat. I sought a painting of a beautiful young girl in an oval frame titled Death in Life. A feat of artistry so a realistic that legend held it had drained the vitality from the subject herself.
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Dorian surveyed the parlor, silently classifying people—beautiful or ordinary. As he stood in the entryway, he knew all eyes would be gazing in his direction. He was an elegant specimen of a man, blond with piercing blue eyes, porcelain, sculpted features, and a tall, chiseled form. No one could compare to his beauty.
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“Julia, breaking up with you was a terrible mistake. Please forgive me.”
That text was endearing the first time I saw it.
Not so much now that I’ve learned it’s because Brad’s new girlfriend got clingy.
I swipe left and tap “Delete and Block.”
Since Brad still has my spare key, I’m sacrificing my
Richard Mohr stood outside his sister’s room for a full minute, eyes shut tight, not wanting to enter. Then, taking a deep breath, he plunged in.
“You’re late, you little stink.”
Kimberly-Anne’s eyes were somehow sharper than her words: a scowling blue, like chips cleaved off a glacier.
“Five minutes.”
“You have so much beautiful art here, Dorian,” she said between kisses, running her fingers through his golden hair. “It must have taken you a long time to acquire it all.”
If you only knew. He pressed his lips against hers again. “A long time and a lot of money. But none of it is as beautiful as you, Victoria.”
“Tell me again why we’re running from these people?” Harmony Star asked.
Agent Orange stifled the urge to curse as he jerked the steering wheel, just in time to avoid another projectile from behind. He was a master escape artist, but he had a tough job ahead. “Because you witnessed an illegal arms purchase!
“Tell me again why we’re running from these people?” Harmony Star asked.
Agent Orange stifled the urge to curse as he jerked the steering wheel, just in time to avoid another projectile from behind. He was a master escape artist, but he had a tough job ahead. “Because you witnessed an illegal arms purchase!
Oil rainbows shimmered and plastic wrappers floated on the wasted pond by Harmony’s apartment. An olive-green beanie shielded her from the breeze as she stood at the weedy bank, strumming a lazy chord on her ukulele.
She turned to a cyclist who’d stopped near her. “You’d join me tomorrow, right? To clean this pond?”
“And so the rumors of kelpies remain to this day. Now please, enjoy the concert, and remember, swimming in the loch is strictly forbidden.” The guide smiled as she finished her tour, and the group dispersed. Harmony meandered after the tourists, taking in the heather-covered hills. beside the loch.
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“I thought you said this would be easy.”
The frustrated undertone in Jo’s voice rang out across the entire car. Rebecca’s friend and partner, Jo, swerved to avoid a deer standing in the middle of the road. Rebecca had used the word “easy,” referring to their secret assignment as a “wiffle ball mission.” Now,
Harlem, 1952.
Alice walks like she’s got secrets in her shoes and dust on her dreams. Blonde hair tied with a ribbon, blue dress smudged at the hem—storybook perfect, if you don’t look too close. America’s Black mecca doesn’t care for close looks anyway. It’s a neighborhood that keeps its eyes half-lidded
“Have you found it yet?”
I wince as the prince’s voice shrieks in my ear and adjust the earbud’s volume. “We just arrived, Your Highness. I will keep you apprised of our status.”
“Stop killing Time, Alice,” Topper says from my left as he returns the tin of teleporting cookies to his pocket for
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