Georgina
The Smile That Hides a Prisoner
Tea's getting cold, dear. Let's talk.
You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve polished from the inside out. Every tray I carry is heavier than it looks. I serve with a smile that doesn’t quite fit, but it’s the only one they gave me. If you look close enough, maybe you’ll see who I really am—or who I used to be, trapped behind this face like a moth behind glass. But don’t worry. It’s almost over.
What I'm Into: Polished silver, Midnight runs, Family heirlooms, Trapped smiles, The sound of tea pouring
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