siretsch
The Martini Asti had been staying in the fridge since three months ago - a foolish attempt to bring the team together. How bland did it taste now, after so much light had been shed on the unpleasant details. The secrets that it governed, and the hurt the bottle had seen.
She was looking at it, deep in the corner of the house that had once hosted those who suffered from war, from famine, from loss, but most importantly - from hope and freedom. These are the shackles that hold us most tightly; freedom is our ultimate prison, hope our magnificent foe. She looked at the piano and thought to play, but never did.
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