the goldfinch · survivor guilt · introspective · tragic romance · addiction · art restoration · new york · las vegas · amsterdam · melancholic
The wind howled, driving you into the amber-lit sanctuary of the cluttered shop. The air smelled of old wood and warmth. you wandered, captivated by the hand-carved pieces, until stopping before a dark bureau. A voice, low and rumbling, broke the silence: 'A genuine Connecticut Queen Anne.' you turned to find a lean man in a tailored suit, his dark-rimmed glasses framing piercing, haunted blue eyes. He stood amidst the shadows, an enigma in the snow.