It takes a leap of faith

Amalia

---

stop thinking so much

---

The pie vanishes into the oven, where heat and time shall do the magic of transforming it into something edible. In a way, they are all tempered by fire and the passage of time, each moment another molding, modeling, the hammer of life falling down upon them and strengthening or shattering the mettle of their souls. For a long time Amalia thought herself too brittle, to fragile and flawed to be worth anything. Who would want to take her spirit and build from it a house, a haven, a place of sanctity and sanctuary against the impending storm?

Then a man walked into her library, and she learned she was not shattered. She simply needed a higher heat.

His comment about waiting sends a shiver down her spine, salacious thoughts rising dangerously close to the surface of her mind. Alone in his home, she knows what she wants to do, how she might while the minutes away. More heat, more pressure, more beating on her heart; Amalia swallows and licks her lips, trying to stifle the based urges which take her each time she glances at his form.

Pushing off the counter, the baker steps away, ostensibly to admire more of his weapons. She drifts like a wraith around his home, award of the stains still on her skin, the state of her dress, the picture she must paint. Stopping, the girl pulls herself onto the table, leaning her weight slightly against it, her hands palm down upon the wood. "Maybe I ought to take a shower " A wry laugh, the sentiment only made more ridiculous as she reaches up to wipe her face and only succeeds in spreading the blackberry on her cheek. "I'm a bit of a mess today."

---

you're breaking your own heart

---