Velvet Moss & Brine
The moss clings to everything here, a damp, persistent embrace. It’s
The Dust of Second Chances
The rain always smelled like memory here. A fine, silver dust clinging
Neon Rain & Silver Light
The rain, of course, was a lie. Not really. It slicked the
Sugar Rush Syndrome
The chrome of the bike hummed, a low thrum that synced with
The Dust & The Drive
The rain always smelled like possibility in this city. Not the saccharine,
Driftwood & Stardust
The rain in Neo-Kyoto always felt like a secret, didn’t it?
Dust & Echoes
The sand tasted of memory. Not a sharp, painful recollection, but the
Currents & Silk
The salt always smells like remembered rain.
He said he’d find
Fractured Light, Liquid Heat
The rain always smelled of burnt sugar. Appropriate, considering the residue clinging
Neon Rain & Silk Threads
The rain in this city always smells of burnt sugar and forgotten
Dust & Asphalt Dreams
The rain always smelled like possibility. Not the bright, sharp kind that
Afterglow & Chrome
The rain had faded to a grey smear on the asphalt. He’