The slaves having a name

Cold Dusk

Theodore Mansion, Critic Arley.

Lydia woke up early today, her raven black hair tangled in her sleep she restrained a groan, she turned to her side and found her husband sleeping on his back, his face peaceful and serene, then there came an uncontrollable urge to trace the contours of his face that she had to curb in other not to wake him up, her ocean blue eyes landed on his lips drawing a girly giggle from her as she was reminded of their kiss last night, she went red as she remembered how almost desperate she had gotten, as she kept of starring at him the realisation that he still looked as though he never turn in his sleep and his hair was still near perfect made her eyes widen.