The rain had kept Poe in the city, away from the weak grasp on the lively memories that hung around the grounds that were once, too briefly, Esper Hollow. Its demise had inspired her in some bizarrely morbid way in seemed, opening up her already cracked mind to the world of the dead. She was living in wait for the dead, rising in the day only to daydream of the warm arms that came in the night. This world that she had gluttonously enjoyed before was slipping out of her slackened hands, emptying its attachments and appeals with every slow sway of her arms in stride. |
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