Style
Abbigail H.
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"Eat your style" the old man said. His voice, gravely and deep, lilted the end of each word, wrapping me in what he was saying. I blinked.
"What?" I asked, my throat was dry and my voice came out as bare as the branches of one of those trees that happen to lose their leaves in winter (not pines, because they like to stay green and fresh, I've noticed). The man said nothing. I blinked again and he was gone.
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Hmm... Pretty sure I spelled things wrong and misused words. If I did, please tell me. If not, enjoy. I'll grammar and spell check on my own later.
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