Fics like pockets of timelessness

The sun rose above the valley, waking slowly between the hills. The morning dew glistened in its rays, penetrating through the fabric of Mika's socks. But Mika didn't mind, it had been his idea after all to brave the outside world in nothing but a crinkled and sideways version of the clothes he'd put on the evening prior. There was something about the sunlight hitting his face, warming him up through the chill of the morning wind; nestled in purgatory of a dead world to a newborn day. But truth be told, Mika's focus didn't solely rest on the idyllic scenery before his eyes. A few meters before him - no more than a hundred - sat a figure on the apex of the hill the house had been built on. Mika needn't squint to recognise the man, truth be told he'd long memorised every line, colour, shape that constituted Michael Schumacher. or the one in which michael and mika share a cigarette in the early morning hours following a party.

Fics like pockets of timelessness

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