megan
Many people seem to come in pairs. For a long time, Matilda was part of a pair-- her and her cousin Lettice. The Latham-Mccall cousins. Where one was, the other was sure to be nearby. But Lettie wasn't here, she was far away back in Rickshorn, and Mattie was alone. No longer part of a pair, but alone. Completely on her own, for the first time in likely her entire life. It left a hollow feeling in her heart.
Fleeing in a full gown, bustle and petticoats in all, was not Matilda's greatest idea. No, spying in said gown had not been a good idea. Fleeing was just the necessary aftermath.
None the less, climbing onto one of the catwalks, she slipped and fell. Her knees were bruised and she could tell that she had cut her leg on a shard of metal.
Composed. Whole, together, complete. Matilda was rarely anything other than perfectly composed, well-put together and the perfect lady. But now she was uncomposed. Lacking composure. No, decomposed. Breaking apart, disintegrating into nothing. Falling to little scattered pieces across the floor.
writing since 2013 · 3 entries · 3 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Megan showed up.
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the words Megan reaches for
composedmatildafleeinggownideapairalonewholecompleterarelyperfectlyperfectladynowuncomposedlacking