octolilly
Brick patterns, musty, and folded blankets. We like the sun streaming in our faces and even though dust kicks up in our eyes we take a deep breath and delve into history.
The wind whistles past as it flies quickly, brushing against the limbs of the trees. His shrieks fill the air as he tumbles into the leaves. Looking, looking, and clamoring to find it. It's broken pieces scatter at his toes.