I might crumble, I might take a fall again [open]
There's a house on a vaguely upscale residential street. Up until yesterday it only had one interesting thing about it, which was the paint scheme involving blue and green stripes. Not exactly worth a second glance, in a world like this one, but still, it was there.
Today, it boasts a small, huddled someone curled up on a porch swing she occasionally bothers to actually make swing. You know how someone looks after they've been crying intermittently for hours and using their sleeves to dry off their face because they just can't care about finding tissue paper? Right now, Madeline looks like that.
When she takes up crying again, which happens at fairly regular intervals, it's raggedly, audibly, and with a tinge of exhaustion. She can't keep it up forever, but she's not thinking that far ahead, either.
Today, it boasts a small, huddled someone curled up on a porch swing she occasionally bothers to actually make swing. You know how someone looks after they've been crying intermittently for hours and using their sleeves to dry off their face because they just can't care about finding tissue paper? Right now, Madeline looks like that.
When she takes up crying again, which happens at fairly regular intervals, it's raggedly, audibly, and with a tinge of exhaustion. She can't keep it up forever, but she's not thinking that far ahead, either.