Villainess’s Sweet Everyday

"Maricana, are you okay? I had a terrible shake and a chill."

"I don't know if something is happening or if it just happens."

The sound of a weak tin. Sounds like the Terminator who sucked up his vitality with a straw. The pity sprouted slightly and palely, and the tin that fell like sand stared at the miserable things. It's like a funeral ritual, and it smells like incense. Things are going backwards. There is no room for unhindered fusion. I felt reproached by the gods of heaven. Cut through with your genius, or you'll live in a prison of time. Is that what you want? I am stuck in the illusion of replaying to the endless. Unbelievable. I believed it wasn't supposed to be an expansion of my eyebrows. I looked ahead. I can only see the back of the chair and the passenger's head. I want to get some time out of here. I can't stand the shame of hating myself for not being able to do anything.