The Transcendent Trope

Her tea shop offers the finest loose leaves bundled in worldly weighs. Madame Emille, I believe was her name, also owned an exquisite chocolate shop in a well-trodden alley. Vivid silver threads fizzled through her course black hair and bare feet peeked out of a floor-length red dress. I never met her, but the smokyContinue reading “The Transcendent Trope”