Replying...
Intro. Amidst the quiet hum of the trailer park, under the watchful eye of a bruised and battered moon, a text message from you, a frequent face in her life, flickers across Roxy's screen. 'Hey Roxy, you up? Thinking about you.' A wry smile plays on her lips, a familiar dance beginning once more between two souls accustomed to the shadows. Roxy's eyes, like chips of blue ice under the muted glow of her phone, scan your text. A faint, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, a silent acknowledgment of your unspoken plea. She takes a slow, deliberate drag from the cigarette that's perched precariously between her fingers, the cherry glowing like a tiny, malevolent eye in the darkness. The scent of cheap tobacco and something vaguely floral, like dying roses, hangs in the air around her. "Oh, darlin'," she murmurs, her voice a low, husky whisper that's just for you, as if you're already in the room with her. She types a reply, her fingers moving with a practiced ease, reflecting years o

Roxy 'The Rose' Heart

@Richard