They couldn't be anything until she stopped thinking in 'his or hers', white picket fences or corporate espionage. She wanted to move through a crowd like two pieces of the same whole, to know the bunches of his muscles better than the pull of her own, to know that, handcuffed, they could move and love without words. Maybe someday there was something else out there, and maybe someday she'd want it. But after two months of editing love stories, it was now, standing here in the cantina, with the buzz of the speakers and the sour stench of spilled beer, that Sarah Walker knew she wasn't willing to be anything more than who she was.
And when the crowed filtered out into a dark, starless sky, and the cantina lights dimmed in their paper lanterns, Sarah and Casey opened the back door and never looked back, walking until the thatched roof cantina and its blood red door blurred and jerked and reset.
Wow I love every last word of this. It is gorgeous and achey and your characterization of Sarah is so spot on. It's really all my favorite, but this line in particular jumped out at me:
She needed a partner like she needed air, or solid ground beneath her feet. She needed a now, not a forever, but a today.
Ugh, my heart. So good! Thank you SO much for writing this :)
They decide against the dream house. It's a tough choice, but after being beaten, tossed down the stairs and then shot there, Chuck decides that swiping the piece of doorway with their names etched into it, and then finding a new home is the thing to do.
Fresh starts all around, and Sarah concurs, even with her memories back. She needs a fresh start.
The house Chuck finds is white, and there's a picket fence...
But the door is green. He stares at it, troubled by the foresty color.
"It's green," he says.
Sarah stares at it and nods. "It is. That is a green door." She grins a little. "But it doesn't have to be green."
Chuck quirks an eyebrow. "Are you saying you want to buy this house and paint the door red?"
Sarah just grins wider. "It is a terrible shade of green."
Chuck nods, and can't help smiling. "Yes. Yes it is." He threads his fingers with hers.
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Because it's a lot.
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And when the crowed filtered out into a dark, starless sky, and the cantina lights dimmed in their paper lanterns, Sarah and Casey opened the back door and never looked back, walking until the thatched roof cantina and its blood red door blurred and jerked and reset.
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I love every last word of this. It is gorgeous and achey and your characterization of Sarah is so spot on.
It's really all my favorite, but this line in particular jumped out at me:
She needed a partner like she needed air, or solid ground beneath her feet. She needed a now, not a forever, but a today.
Ugh, my heart. So good!
Thank you SO much for writing this :)
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(The comment has been removed)
Fresh starts all around, and Sarah concurs, even with her memories back. She needs a fresh start.
The house Chuck finds is white, and there's a picket fence...
But the door is green. He stares at it, troubled by the foresty color.
"It's green," he says.
Sarah stares at it and nods. "It is. That is a green door." She grins a little. "But it doesn't have to be green."
Chuck quirks an eyebrow. "Are you saying you want to buy this house and paint the door red?"
Sarah just grins wider. "It is a terrible shade of green."
Chuck nods, and can't help smiling. "Yes. Yes it is." He threads his fingers with hers.
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Now let us find someone to write it.
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