The night wind blew in coolly, dispersing the murky air.
After a round of false and polite exchanges, a look of fatigue appeared between his brows.
Moonlight poured in through the window, falling on the camel-colored soft carpet, where there were sparkling flashes between the carpet's fibers.
These were the buttons that Rosie Wood had thrown away, which Henry Dales bent down to pick up.
The button was stepped on and deformed. Something Rosie had wanted to destroy wouldn't have been preserved intact.
The small button pinched in his palm felt a bit cold, a bit bright. A fleeting clear figure flashed through his mind, too fast to catch before a streak of brightness appeared before his eyes.
Rosie was staring at his palm, fury in her eyes, "It's just a few broken buttons, why bother picking them up?"
Henry slightly lifted his gaze, his look indifferent, "You care a lot about Scarlett Yates?"
