Anette Liliane Desrosiers.
Eighteen years old.
Senior.
Worker at Off the Page.
Eighteen years old.
Senior.
Worker at Off the Page.
Luke stayed where he was, his brown eyes followed her as she skimmed through her purse. He wondered if those two things meant anything to her. Were they completely ruined? Were they safe at least? He was not sure, and he wondered if he should ask or not.
“Do you still want to keep them?” he asked quietly.
A small sigh came from Anette as she zipped up the purse, placing it back on the chair where is previously was rested. She shook her head, picking up the wet book and sketchpad between her fingertips. Walking back to the kitchen, she looked around for the garbage can.
“No, they’re… too wet to be recovered.” She slowly explained, taking in their appearance of soggy, fragile pages and dripping ink.
(Source: cali-anette)
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