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“A strange feeling spreads through Avery’s chest, a slow, honeyed warmth he can’t ignore. It seeps over the fear, the sorrow, the bitter wretched dread that has always lived inside him, and it clings like a stain against his ribcage. This feeling that is somehow terrible and holy and beautiful all at once. He is not alone.” — C.G. Drews
A strange feeling spreads through Avery’s chest, a slow, honeyed warmth he can’t ignore. It seeps over the fear, the sorrow, the bitter wretched dread that has always lived inside him, and it clings like a stain against his ribcage.
This feeling that is somehow terrible and holy and beautiful all at once.
He is not alone.