Here is a Sasha. A small Sasha, only about seven. He’s already sturdy, a strong lad who works hard, with a baby faced roundness to him. His clothes are neat and well cared for, though old, and no one would say he looks as if he’s not been fed enough, but there’s something odd about him, nevertheless
(
Read more... )
Comments 88
*gruffly, but he's trying to be nice* Hey, what're you doing here?
Reply
"I think I'm lost," he says, just loud enough to be heard.
Reply
*realizes he's probably freaking the kid out so he sighs and squats down to be at Sasha's height*
You think you're lost? Well, where are you supposed to be?
Reply
He puts his hands into his pockets, fumbling a little, but that's all right because the pockets won't break.
Reply
Reply
His hands find their way to the small of his back, a peculiarly adult gesture. "I'm Sasha," he says, with what is, for him, unaccustomed boldness.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
He bites down on his lip and looks away. "I could help you look. Maybe." Very soft, almost inaudible.
Reply
Reply
(Because he is too afraid to try wishing.)
Reply
Reply
He looks nervously at Mary. "Ma'am?" he says, confused.
Reply
Reply
Reply
And then, of course, it hits him. "Oh, god. Sasha?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment