by ~Phantasos~ » Thu Jan 10, 2013 2:38 pm
(The front door I guess... Or maybe the kitchen door.)
Chance yowled fearfully and began to claw harder. Deep gashes appeared in the wood.
"And dreams in their development have breath,and tears,and tortures,and the touch of joy; they leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,they take a weight from off our waking toils,they do divide our being."