The Tattoo of Spring.
Her fingers are coarse from the dry winter air. She rubs them together absentmindedly; running the careful grooves of one finger whirl against another. She spreads her arms out wide to her side—her thin,...
Her fingers are coarse from the dry winter air. She rubs them together absentmindedly; running the careful grooves of one finger whirl against another. She spreads her arms out wide to her side—her thin,...