The past can haunt anyone.The owner is idly leaning back against the tool shelf, still as a statue. An old, slightly scratched up photograph is in her hands, her expression like a void, undecipherable as she scans over it again. A closer look at the subject would reveal a small girl, looking to be about twelve years old. She is donned in what appears to be a custom army uniform, mostly unadorned. The girl's eyes are a strange bright violet red. Much like the woman holding the photo herself.
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Jackie's brow suddenly furrows, metaphorical storm clouds overhead. With one swift movement, she slams the old photo down onto the surface of the tool shelf, her other, blatantly mechanical hand clenched into a fist of rage.
... old bull shit.
Forefinger and thumb now rubbing circles into her temples, the woman walks off, going silent just as quickly as she had burst out in anger. She had forgotten, however, that as the photograph was simply sitting there in plain sight...
It could be picked up by anyone.
--
Sugar, Sugar....
O that night, in your embrace.
When you stole away the keys
my heart held onto so tight.
Oops, ahaha, sorry!
--
Have you seen an eraser around here?
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