Memory is quite the bitch lately. (via the dank little chamber of celebratory finger flicks, neck kisses and the like) In letting go, we close doors. They stay locked tight, and hidden behind deceiving curtains.
Glitch.
Locks have a nasty habit of unlocking, and curtains have an even nastier habit of being sheer at inopportune moments - this being one of them.
LV//11:16
