(original) hello, goodbye
(for pulped_fictions : winter pulpympics: snow drabble #2)
355 words. G. sequel to say hi to lily-ann
"Rick."
She's not surprised, he can tell. Worried, rather. Rick doesn't turn around, delighting in thoughts of a concerned Lily-Ann; her cheek would rest on her hand, and she would wear a lopsided smile every time her boyfriend - his best friend, otherwise - inquired about reasons.
"You're back."
"I do that, you know."
He has no wish to turn and face her. Freckled nose, wisps of shaggy hair covering her eyes: she has no notion of proper bangs - Rick doesn't want to see it all; but he needs to.
"Were you looking at something?"
Lily-Ann's voice trails farther, and he can guess she sits down. Lightly, slowly. When he summoned her in his thoughts, while away, she always came by as a mild sun rising. She's not tempestuous, not ill-tempered; she's just there.
"Sort of. Yes." Rick looks for the right words - her graduation day picture is just a tad worn-out. She doesn't look younger, but less wiser. There are no worry lines. He shudders, thinking that some of those lines, slightly cracking at the corners of her mouth, are due to him.
He's good at escaping.
"I was - there's this picture. It's a dog. He looks lazy; but I think he's sad."
"Spot", she acknowledges quietly. "He was a good companion, Spot. I was, what, thirteen, fourteen? My dad rescued him in a snowstorm, and brought him home." She breathes. "The graduation picture, the picture of Spot - it was the same day."
"What happened to him, Lily-Ann?"
He takes pleasure in tasting her name; her full name. His tongue stiffens.
"He ran away, of course. They always do."
Rick clenches his fists and checks himself, willing to scream as loudly as he can, willing to throw himself at her feet and be dramatic, and romantic, like they do it on TV. In the space of a second, he pictures his desperate cry for forgiveness; and then, he'd hug her, almost crushing her bones. He'd kiss her, too.
"Spot. What a sad name", he says.
Sad words for a sad life; the sound of a door being closed - Rick thinks he might die on the spot.
355 words. G. sequel to say hi to lily-ann
"Rick."
She's not surprised, he can tell. Worried, rather. Rick doesn't turn around, delighting in thoughts of a concerned Lily-Ann; her cheek would rest on her hand, and she would wear a lopsided smile every time her boyfriend - his best friend, otherwise - inquired about reasons.
"You're back."
"I do that, you know."
He has no wish to turn and face her. Freckled nose, wisps of shaggy hair covering her eyes: she has no notion of proper bangs - Rick doesn't want to see it all; but he needs to.
"Were you looking at something?"
Lily-Ann's voice trails farther, and he can guess she sits down. Lightly, slowly. When he summoned her in his thoughts, while away, she always came by as a mild sun rising. She's not tempestuous, not ill-tempered; she's just there.
"Sort of. Yes." Rick looks for the right words - her graduation day picture is just a tad worn-out. She doesn't look younger, but less wiser. There are no worry lines. He shudders, thinking that some of those lines, slightly cracking at the corners of her mouth, are due to him.
He's good at escaping.
"I was - there's this picture. It's a dog. He looks lazy; but I think he's sad."
"Spot", she acknowledges quietly. "He was a good companion, Spot. I was, what, thirteen, fourteen? My dad rescued him in a snowstorm, and brought him home." She breathes. "The graduation picture, the picture of Spot - it was the same day."
"What happened to him, Lily-Ann?"
He takes pleasure in tasting her name; her full name. His tongue stiffens.
"He ran away, of course. They always do."
Rick clenches his fists and checks himself, willing to scream as loudly as he can, willing to throw himself at her feet and be dramatic, and romantic, like they do it on TV. In the space of a second, he pictures his desperate cry for forgiveness; and then, he'd hug her, almost crushing her bones. He'd kiss her, too.
"Spot. What a sad name", he says.
Sad words for a sad life; the sound of a door being closed - Rick thinks he might die on the spot.