A branch cracked somewhere behind her, and she whirled, her pulse racing. A figure loomed, towering and wide, a hat casting his features in obscurity as his gaze locked onto the container she clutched. “This isn’t the place for you,” he stated, his tone cold. Fix the radio. V
Desde o falecimento do meu pai, eu não via mamy feliz. Esse sábado eu vi e os olhinhos dela chegavam a brilhar com a investidura dela e a família junta. Obrigada, aí em cima