Blue China and Tweed

Blue china and tweed. A cup smashed. Blood.

He was a quiet man. Leather patches on his elbows. Respected.

He was now quiet, respected, lying in a slowly growing pool of his own blood, breathing shallowly.

I could have saved him, but I didn’t. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. Let fate decide. I only wanted him to know how I felt.

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