The Empress Returns
I remember that fateful August day like it was yesterday. I was sprawled out on my bed getting increasingly pissed off at the sun for creeping in through a gap in the curtains. Staring at the ceiling, I’d been lying there for quite some time. I remember absorbing the smell of flowers from that god-awful washing powder my mother used and thinking about how it was sweet and overpowering, yet it reminded me of my home.
A bit sad, but I found it quite comforting.
Never in a million years would I have imagined the sequence of events that would follow that day, and nor could I have prepared for the roller-coaster of emotions it would bring.
My name is Lewis, and this is where my story began.
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