(no subject)
she closes the shop in an all-too-familiar fashion. thinking, unnecessarily (as it proves nothing)- "not this again." another late night, another shitty beer. to awake to another shitty day when yet another person decides, well...just decides.
there he is, in true james dean fashion, leaning. back to the hood of the car, legs crossed at the ankles, cigarette hanging ever so casually between his lips. glancing, as if there was was something so amazing up there, towards the sky.
looking out at him, she smiles and thinks, "thank you."
there he is, in true james dean fashion, leaning. back to the hood of the car, legs crossed at the ankles, cigarette hanging ever so casually between his lips. glancing, as if there was was something so amazing up there, towards the sky.
looking out at him, she smiles and thinks, "thank you."