C70 69. CUPID'S MOTHER

CAELUM

The wind battered the trees harder than before.

I have to force the glass doors open as I stalked out of the study, wanting nothing but to accompany my miserable friend who is kneeling on the grass, eyes closed as though he was praying. His platinum blond hair was swept to the sides as the wind changes its course.

He is facing the heavens, arms splayed, like he was begging