WIP

Cold. That was the sensation she felt, the rain falling on pale skin, washing away dirt and ash, the warm blood that painted her smooth skin washed away as the rain fell more heavily. The smell of smoke and burning bodies filled the already acrid air, assaulting sensitive noses as red eyes stare ahead, lost in a haze. What had happened? When did this go wrong? Those red eyes gaze up at the full moon, a brilliant red that lit the sky. A ticking clock. Hour hands.
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A young woman laid in a lounge chair, her eyes closed, the room silent save for the ticking metronome. Strands of blonde hair had fallen over her face as a man dressed in casual clothes snapped his fingers, her eyes opened as she looked around. She saw him writing things down on his clipboard, it was new, unlike his other one which had been worn down. Brown eyes gazed over eggshell white paper behind brown metal frames half rim glasses set with stubble over a sharp jawline. His hair was black, a bit messy with wavy curls. He cleared his throat as she looked away from him, a soft blush to her cheeks.

"That's all you can remeber, Amalia?" He asked, his voice gruff but gentle, as if he came from a western.