rolo

rolo

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he carved up the turkey, throwing the slices to each of the plates stuck out. As the meat slapped the china, the face scrunched and the arm withdrew, placing the plate down. They sat silent, hands on their laps til they were told they could help themselves to vegetables. They were never told.

bow

He bowed so that his face almost touched his knees, closing his eyes tight shut and hoping that when they were open, he could balance again and bring himself upright. He tried, and he did so, no effort involved. The room was the same, people were still staring, but he had more respect on his side because he had the prettiest bow anyone had seen so far. He even got a clap for it.

straw

The straw hung out his mouth, not one of those curly straws that everyone used to lunge for, but the standard size.

mean

It wasn't what he meant. He meant something more, not something less. He was mean, because he was hurt. She had no clue. She never understood him. Maybe it was for the best that she walked away and left him. She certainly thought so. How could this continue when they wanted different things, needed different things? it was useless.

crane

the crane stood tall in the centre of the square, sectioned off from the public. You could see it for miles, towering above all the other buildings in the city. It was a landmark - though a temporary one, because when it had finished creating the building, the crane would have served it's purpose and be removed, moved to it's new project. But for now, it deserved it's place in the town.

braid

Her hair twisted, tugged into the tight ribbon the woman was holding. She didn't want it in her hair. She could feel the roots ripping, tearing away from her scalp. And she didn't like it. How could she tell the woman in a polite manner that she was hurting her? Would that be rude to tell her to stop? Would she ignore her?

writing since 2011 · 30 entries · 29 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Rolo showed up.

3longest streak

29days written

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on this day 15 years ago

Rolo wrote about umbrella
“The sun was shooting across the sky, yet the man held his umbrella tightly in his hand, flat by his side. It didn't hurt to take precautions. He'd been caught out too many times before. Like last Sa…”

the words Rolo reaches for

walkedeyesdoorholdingstaringarmhelpskyhandhairstoodnowmeantfacehomehead