XXI. Viajante recurrente al país de nunca jamás.
La de la sonrisa nerviosa a media noche.
“…I thought she was a puzzle. A fascinating, beautiful, complex puzzle. But then I realized that no matter how close I got to her, no matter what combination I tried, she would never really open up to me.”
— Karin Slaughter, Pieces of Her (via svntide)
maxon: *hiding in closet* ahh, yes, mmm, hello my precious
america: *from other end of palace* what do i smell?
maxon: *begins unwrapping something* you’re going to taste so good!
america: *begins running*
maxon: ahh, can’t wait to eat you!
america: *smashes through door* i sMeLL sTrAwBeRRy TaRtS!
maxon: dammit. *hands over tart*
cladisal
