Musso | Guillaume

"You can’t change the past," a voice whispered from the doorway.

The rain lashed against the windows of the small Manhattan studio, blurring the neon lights of Broadway into a sea of fractured gold. Marc stared at the photograph in his hand—the only thing he had left of a life that no longer belonged to him. Guillaume Musso

Here is a short original text written in the style of Guillaume Musso: "You can’t change the past," a voice whispered

He didn't turn around. He knew that voice. It was the same one that had warned him ten years ago, on the night the car hit the embankment. The night everything should have ended, yet somehow, mysteriously, began again. "You can’t change the past