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Itachi sighed heavilly and closed the door to his office, setting his keys down on his work desk. He had just arrived home from a long business trip and was dying to read the last couple of pages of his novel. The weasel strolled across the room to a big red armchair that looked over his mansion, a sea of pine trees out his window surrounding the lake of blue known as the sky. Itachi took his seat in the fluffy red arm chair and leaned his head against it's arm, letting the day's worries escape his thoughts as he opened his novel again to a red and black bookmark.
Everything as what he had left it. Nothing ever changes in a story, the names of the characters, the setting, the time period, nothing takes an unexplanable twist. In a story there is no worry of being too pretty or too smart, you can simply read the words printed on the page and let your imagination take place. Itachi started reading, everything around him disappearing as he was transported to a green mountain top. The heoine of the story was sitting in the base as the heo arrived home. She rose from her seat and went over to him, pressing into his muscular leg as he shut the door behind him, blocking out the sweet pine air.
The hero led his lover to the back of the house, sitting at a small oak table and spread out a variety of blue prints and maps. Their target was in the general area, somewhere in the mountains. The heroine leaned across the table, taking in the musky scent of her beloved and pressed her soft lips against his. He kissed her back with a deep passion then pulled away all too soon, leaving her breathless.
He picked up his leather studded belt and placed his silver pistol in the holster. The hero turned back to his lover and gave her a wavering smile before turning and leaving the small cabin, making his way up the steep hill. He looked up at the sky and was almost lost in the vast amount of blue. The sky was especially vibrant today, not even a single cloud blocked its view of the story below, almost as if it was waiting for the conclusion as well.
The hero arrived at his destination, making his way inside of the house. The first floor was clear, not even a speck of dust was there to keep him company. He climbed the stairs silently, watching his surroundings. The pictures hanging on the wall seemed to be looming over him, their black eyes measuring him up. The hero continued his journey down the hall until he reached a tall closed door.
He opened the door slowly, making sure it didnt shut behind him. He took a step hesitantly inside the room, a pair of keys shimmering on the office desk in the corner of his eye. The hero pulled out his silver pistol, sun beams reflecting off of it as he moved across the carpeted floors silently to a big red arm chair, a black head resting against its arm.
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