(no subject)
Kaylee didn't go home last night, either.
The room is nice enough, and quiet enough, and when the quiet starts to press in she can go downstairs and sit off somewhere out of sight and listen in. That's what she's doing right now -- sitting at a table by the wall with a cup of black coffee in front of her, and a half-finished bowl of soup that's been pushed aside. She's still holding herself like she thinks she takes up too much space, and she isn't looking up very much, but -- the soup was pretty good, at least what she had of it.
Tugging the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands, she rakes her fingers through her hair, and reaches for her coffee.
(Near the wall: a blossom, and a note.
They didn't make her smile. They did make her cry.)
The room is nice enough, and quiet enough, and when the quiet starts to press in she can go downstairs and sit off somewhere out of sight and listen in. That's what she's doing right now -- sitting at a table by the wall with a cup of black coffee in front of her, and a half-finished bowl of soup that's been pushed aside. She's still holding herself like she thinks she takes up too much space, and she isn't looking up very much, but -- the soup was pretty good, at least what she had of it.
Tugging the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands, she rakes her fingers through her hair, and reaches for her coffee.
(Near the wall: a blossom, and a note.
They didn't make her smile. They did make her cry.)