They must look ridiculous, fighting their stage armor like ungrateful children pulling off itchy sweaters, hurling each piece across the room in their umbrage. She can hardly think for how desperately she needs it gone, anxiety swept to the wayside and replaced by gunfire-rhythm: off off off off off off off—
If this is what it means to fill the dearth her mother left behind— by reprising Texas's bad deeds— she doesn't want it.
Black doesn't suit her, anyway.
It caves her chest in like an old tomb.
Guilt's black shadow clinging to her limbs, fettering her.
Carolina shakes off the last few pieces and makes her way toward Connecticut. Wonders again (lied awake night after night, playing and re-playing the scene, this isn't new, not in the slightest. She could recall that bunker like the back of her hand. Every move, every reaction) what might have happened if only she'd made it in time. She'd shoulder any punishment the Director or Counselor hurled her way for interrupting Texas. Likes to think so, at least.
"Taking a while," Carolina repeats, doesn't argue. Not the time. She nears Connecticut and rests one hand on her back, slips another under her armpit and heaves her to standing. Her own knees wobble. You will not fall. You will not fall.
no subject
They must look ridiculous, fighting their stage armor like ungrateful children pulling off itchy sweaters, hurling each piece across the room in their umbrage. She can hardly think for how desperately she needs it gone, anxiety swept to the wayside and replaced by gunfire-rhythm: off off off off off off off—
If this is what it means to fill the dearth her mother left behind— by reprising Texas's bad deeds— she doesn't want it.
Black doesn't suit her, anyway.
It caves her chest in like an old tomb.
Guilt's black shadow clinging to her limbs, fettering her.
Carolina shakes off the last few pieces and makes her way toward Connecticut. Wonders again (lied awake night after night, playing and re-playing the scene, this isn't new, not in the slightest. She could recall that bunker like the back of her hand. Every move, every reaction) what might have happened if only she'd made it in time. She'd shoulder any punishment the Director or Counselor hurled her way for interrupting Texas. Likes to think so, at least.
"Taking a while," Carolina repeats, doesn't argue. Not the time. She nears Connecticut and rests one hand on her back, slips another under her armpit and heaves her to standing. Her own knees wobble. You will not fall. You will not fall.
She doesn't fall.
"You have an offense, then? A plan?"