Jul 7
"miss okojie," a murmur that does not come from the door, nor from the window; a sound that grows thick and travels from the hollow of your throat to your ear, strange and off-putting as an unseen bug tracing your skin. there is a silhouette blurring as it passes the window threshold, and suddenly here she is: sitting in the chair facing the desk, as if she had never been anything but. "i brought ya a little somethin'." a cheeky smile while a box from another age is put onto the desk.
&&. @netc0de
