There it was again. The taste of ashes in her mouth. She stared at the ground. It was always after she saw him, passing on the street unnoticed, that the horrid taste was left behind. Nothing to it, she knew it was all illusion. But there it was, again and again. More than he realized, he had scarred her and left behind a scorched will; she was spiritless whenever she thought of all the time she had wasted, waiting for him to call her.
She spit the memories out of her mouth, and kept walking. She would find someone else, a new taste for her mouth, someone fresh and angelic, less prone to brimstone and more prone to a creamy chocolate goodness. Someone with a soul.


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