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The Ghost of Vermil - Chapter 38: Apple XI
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... emed prettier than most, more redolent than others. There shall be no lovelier creation, none more perfect than her.
She caught the smells of wood, hundred similar yet discernible scents, tainted with varnish and paint, with dye and ink. She smelled the desire in each of them, the longing and the helplessness. But one pungent scent screamed for her. It was hanging there in the middle of the dust-laden room, feet dangling, donned in a pair of pristine white boots, a name scribbled on its ...
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