Drabble about my closet outfit Shining Red.
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Francesca sat alone in a secluded courtyard, hands folded neatly in front of her, eyes closed as she felt the full force of the late autumn breeze. The light rose scent of her rival’s perfume wafted around her from where she’d perched her chin on Fran’s shoulder. She tried to breathe in through her mouth instead, relishing the cooling sensation of the chilly air entering her mouth and filling her lungs. She remembered she needed to study for her exam tomorrow, and stood up from the now-warm stone bench. Francesca walked out of the courtyard, the scent of roses ignored.
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A journal following my time here, vaguely.
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lunahera
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luna ✴︎ she/her/ella
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