The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.
Even death has a heart.
When I find research really rewarding is when one piece of information gives you an idea for a story. That's when it's great.
The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.
When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.
Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' He said. 'They burned my eyes.’ ...from a Himmel street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.