Luther watched his Grandfather drink his wine slowly, as he watched everyone moving around. He'd signalled for Luther to have a drink with him moments ago, but said nothing.
Luther watched him continuously, waiting, but the man remained silent.
“Are you not going to talk?” Luther finally asked, pouring himself a fresh glass of wine, and Aaron grunted.
“What do you think of Estel's poem?” He asked, with a slight grimace.
“Estel's poem? Why do you ask?” Luther swallowed.
Why did Estel even make such a poem? She and Amy were quite reckless with their poems. Luther was quite sure he wasn't the only one who sensed the deep hidden meanings embedded in their poems.
In some ways, they were very alike, but he doubted they cared to know anything about each other.
“What do you think of it
