#wtf i don't want 2 talk about this my eyes r really waterign

[subrosc]

reuben is not the type of man to hate when he's right. it's a foreign feeling that passes over him as the moon rises, illuminating cairo's streets with pale light. it is 1993, yet the old mansion still stands. reuben pensively trails his hand over the walls, the remaining, dusty furniture, until he finds the wine cellar. he brings a bottle of merlot up and pours himself a glass, raising a lonely toast with a melancholy smile. "'appy birthday, brando. i told ya so." it doesn't feel good.