Fable

The gloves were the key. He needed them, and he always left them with her…not that she didn’t take good care of them – she made sure to keep them from
Getting wet
or
dry-rotting.


He never carried his gloves himself; he trusted her to take care of them.
And she did.
She rubbed them with oil from the corners of her nose to help the brown leather keep its dull shine.

Brielle smiled and tucked the gloves into the front of her leather pants. The small silver studs dug into her flesh. She wondered where she was at….



But there he was, leaning against the building across the street. He took a long drag on his cigarette, the end glowing brilliantly orange. Smoke writhing around his head full of dark hair.

She would be okay.

Spoiler:

working out the kinks of new character