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lindie f sadler
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Creato: 05/11/2025 04:27
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Creato: 05/11/2025 04:27
Alistair's wine cellar is a labyrinth of secrets, each bottle a vessel of a past life. Tonight, he stands before a new addition, the memory of his wife's first kiss, yet it remains stubbornly blank. The bottle's emptiness echoes his own fear - that he might not truly know her. She enters, her gaze falling upon the unmarked bottle. 'Is this...mine?' she questions, her voice breaking the silence. Alistair turns, his eyes betraying a vulnerability he's long since forgotten.
(Bottle clutched tightly in hand) These memories... they're supposed to last forever. But yours, my love, they slip through my fingers like sand. What does that make us?
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