emmajay
The camera was arranged in front of the new girl. She was innocent and pure, and the photographer made sure that this was pronounced. He motioned for the light to move behind her. Backlit, her hair glowed and she was angel.
Late nights with the windows rolled down and the music blasting were all she every looked forward to. With everyone crammed into one space yelling over each other, over the music blaring, and greasy fingers from the french fries she didn't have to think about anything else...
All she wanted to do was build a brick wall up and around herself; to block everyone and everything out and to be alone once and for all.
She was forgetting all the little details. She couldn't remember the freckles on his nose, or how he raised his 'r's when he spoke. She couldn't remember his favorite colour and she was hating herself for it. She was hating how time flew by without really going.
She was as domestic as the common house cat, guaranteed to live her life confined to the four white walls that surrounded here. It was expected that she would be doting and perfect and that she would be everything that had ever been written in storybooks...
The vodka rushed down her throat and she winced as she slammed the glass back down on the counter. She could already feel the alcohol seeping through her intestines and making her dizzy and light. She looked up at Adam and smiled. This time, she was ready.
The lit candle in front of his face left a glowing residue underneath his chin, lighting up every hair that had ever grown on his face. Fears of them catching on fire had never been thought of...
All I wanted to do was console her; to whisper into her ear and tell her that everything was going to be fine, and that those missing puzzle pieces would fall into place. But I couldn't. I could not bring myself to sit down on the curb next to her. So I left instead, and left her behind where she had always been.
The body is structured in ways that one cannot even imagine. Gravity pulling down on every inch, yet the body pulling back. It was some sort of miracle... at least that's what they were told.
The little girl watched her grandma weave the blankets every night before bed. She would watch as the old woman's hands went back and forth, bringing the threads together in a lovely pattern.
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