Even if he doesn't sound all right to her, she can't really tell. How much of it is the fact that no one's all right? How much is the fact that she isn't? There should be a million different futures branching out from this conversation, threading their way out before her and telling her everything she wants to know, but they've all knotted together. The universe is tangling and tearing around her, and she's stuffed it in a box in the corner of her thoughts.
There's quiet, then, for a moment or two, but her curiosity isn't so far repressed as her senses. "How'd you leave before? Please. Since we're..."
She waves a vague hand, as though to say since we're stuck here, the cue dangling from between her thumb and forefinger.
no subject
Even if he doesn't sound all right to her, she can't really tell. How much of it is the fact that no one's all right? How much is the fact that she isn't? There should be a million different futures branching out from this conversation, threading their way out before her and telling her everything she wants to know, but they've all knotted together. The universe is tangling and tearing around her, and she's stuffed it in a box in the corner of her thoughts.
There's quiet, then, for a moment or two, but her curiosity isn't so far repressed as her senses. "How'd you leave before? Please. Since we're..."
She waves a vague hand, as though to say since we're stuck here, the cue dangling from between her thumb and forefinger.