A skit because someone said i couldnt be a story writer - meeeee
Ira sighed softly as he looked at the mess that bestowed him. It was quite the show, actually. The broken glass, food scattered across the floor, and wine staining the white tablecloth lining the table. It was like an animal had come in and had a fit. "I swear, some people just don't know how the hell to keep things clean," he muttered as he bent down and picked up the fork that was laying on the ground with his gloved hand.
Tren en esta cita
Edición Del Texto
o simplemente dejar un comentario:
