Artaniga

    Lights illuminated the bathroom as a sixteen year old boy walked towards the sink. He turned on the facet, and freezing cold water ran through his hands and fingers. A puddle of water formed in his palm, and it splatted onto his face. Droplets from his face fled back to the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above. Looking at his dark red hair, the one small pimple on his forehead, but mostly at his old scars. “Ah, this brings up distant memories,” he thought to himself, “ I almost forgot about this, ugh.” He sighed as he goes through his usual routine: Brushing his teeth, combing his short hair and ge