His usually smooth brow furrowed and he stood. Byron was almost my height now and he stretched, his shirt riding up to give a slice of hollow stomach....He looked for the clock.This was our nightly ritual. Every now and again we'd leave things too late and while usually I'd be able to control him, sometimes I wouldn't. Hence the newly repaired painting. Byron always feels guilty in the morning when he sees what damage he's caused, not the least the time when I came to wake him with eleven. “Have the twins arrived?” I asked.“Oui, mademoiselle.”I scanned the dance floor, searching the mass of patrons gyrating against their illicit partners, and finally spotted them. My best friend had her arms wrapped around her twin brother’s neck, and they were gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. Very corny, but she assured me all the stupid love songs made sense once you were in love. It was quite the exaggeration, but I was still glad she’d finally found happiness. Fingers crossed that it. More

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