Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Freedom Of Choice



Every morning, without fail, ever since I grabbed her hand and we ran out of the collapsing Temple of the Evil Snake God Mimypn, we would have the exact same conversation, in usually the exact same way.

She would wake me at sunrise, gently brushing my face with her fingers. I would wake, and then my hands would move to her throat, and unclasp the collar wrapped around it.

“You are a free woman.”

She would then wrap her hands around mine and put the collar back on.

“No I’m not.”

I never stopped trying. She never left my side.

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