((better)) Freeuse Cherie Deville Official

"Tag is showing," he mumbled.

The doors opened. She stepped out into the rainy city, the chill air raising goosebumps on her exposed sternum. She was no one’s victim. She was the utility. The quiet, breathing fixture in the background of a dozen stories she would never bother to read. freeuse cherie deville

The Morning Commute

The fantasy, Cherie often thought, wasn't about force. It was about oblivion . The bliss of being scenery. "Tag is showing," he mumbled

Later, mid-toast, her partner, Marcus, brushed past her to grab a briefcase. He paused, not out of hesitation, but practicality. His hand rested on her hip, a silent question she answered by simply tilting her head and continuing to chew her sourdough. He kissed her neck, a fleeting pressure, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut. She didn’t stop eating. She was no one’s victim