Then Chessa spoke, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Her rosy cheeks grew even rosier as she grinned.
Nyla's fingers curled around her paint brush, dipping her chin down. She looks at Chessa from the rim of her glasses. “No, I’ll paint you instead, it’ll last for centuries.” She spoke softly, grinning back.
Reblog with a random sentence from your wip.