(no subject)
His head had been at a permanent tilt ever since he turned her television on. He wasn't entirely sure what he was watching. He had somehow lost track of the remote in his couch shuffling and he was stuck with it. There was a woman who was crying and the man was crying as well. If this was a romance movie, it was incredibly poor quality. He had always been under the impression that romance was supposed to be happy. None of that looked happy. Why was the man crying though? Was he allowed to cry? He had hurt the woman and yet he was cupping his face and balling into his hands. Tragic.
Rose was somewhere in the apartment, but he was too consumed with this story to find her. He'd occasionally call upon her when he didn't completely understand what was happening. He tried to use his knowledge from his time with the Winchester's and his time with Rose to piece this movie together.
This couch and this television had become his closest set of friends since everything. He was recovering and trying to still grasp a human lifestyle. It was one thing to exist, but he had to learn how they did things down here. He was trying to busy himself with all these things in a futile effort to push the oncoming storm to the back of his mind. He knew it was coming. It was just a matter of when it'd arrive.
Rose was somewhere in the apartment, but he was too consumed with this story to find her. He'd occasionally call upon her when he didn't completely understand what was happening. He tried to use his knowledge from his time with the Winchester's and his time with Rose to piece this movie together.
This couch and this television had become his closest set of friends since everything. He was recovering and trying to still grasp a human lifestyle. It was one thing to exist, but he had to learn how they did things down here. He was trying to busy himself with all these things in a futile effort to push the oncoming storm to the back of his mind. He knew it was coming. It was just a matter of when it'd arrive.