(no subject)
It's late at night. Lindsey's been tucked away to sleep with a story book and an extra big hug, the lights downstairs are turned off, the door's locked. There's a piece of plywood nailed up over the broken window to keep the drafts and bugs out.
All the lights are turned off along the street; the windows are shut, the cars are parked. The road is silent, the night is calm. A dog barks in the distance, the crickets hum. It's peaceful.
There won't be any peace for Catherine tonight.
Not as she tosses, turns over, stares at the ceiling. Tries to find a cooler spot on the pillow, a place that isn't wet with tears. Goes out to the bathroom, stares at a pale, drawn face with so many more lines and wrinkles than she thought she ever had.
Hugs a pillow to her chest, in the end, curls around it and pretends, and then pretends that she slept long and restfully in the morning. That she didn't stay up all night crying and feeling horribly miserable--that she's not missing him at all, that she's doing fine.
She's so much more fragile--so much more easily broken--than she thought she ever was.
[ooc: Millitimed to tonight.]
All the lights are turned off along the street; the windows are shut, the cars are parked. The road is silent, the night is calm. A dog barks in the distance, the crickets hum. It's peaceful.
There won't be any peace for Catherine tonight.
Not as she tosses, turns over, stares at the ceiling. Tries to find a cooler spot on the pillow, a place that isn't wet with tears. Goes out to the bathroom, stares at a pale, drawn face with so many more lines and wrinkles than she thought she ever had.
Hugs a pillow to her chest, in the end, curls around it and pretends, and then pretends that she slept long and restfully in the morning. That she didn't stay up all night crying and feeling horribly miserable--that she's not missing him at all, that she's doing fine.
She's so much more fragile--so much more easily broken--than she thought she ever was.
[ooc: Millitimed to tonight.]